13th Stepping
by Rymrock
Summary: The future is locked in civil war, and each side searches for the key to victory. Thrown into this world, Harry must keep his wits about him if he is to survive what lies ahead. AU HP/Starcraft Crossover.
1. Awaken

**Disclaimer**: It's not mine.

**A.N.** This is an AU HP/Starcraft Crossover - You won't need a Starcraft background to follow the story. Enjoy.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Prologue: Awaken**

**

* * *

**

_TarKossia, Koprulu Sector. Year 2481_

The tall, lanky woman raised a shaking hand and abruptly ended the ComLink. Without another word, she turned on her heels, her long auburn hair whipping back against her exposed neck, and made her way toward the den. She was no older than 35, yet the current political climate had hardened her well past her years and there was now a pronounced edge to her already sharp features. To those who knew her, it did nothing to distract from her innate beauty.

She moved quickly, making her way through the foyer and into the den where her husband sat, absorbed in the current news update. As an SCV driver and mineral miner, his job was deeply affected by the current status of the civil war. His mining regiment had already been displaced around the sector four times in the past cycle, and the steady jumping had been particularly hard on his family, especially his daughter, Sarah.

The man turned his head and laid his pale hazel eyes upon his wife, Elizabeth. In an instant, he was on his feet. He let his chair fall backwards with a loud thud, as he took in the terror etched on his wife's face. "Liz…?" he questioned almost cautiously.

"Patrick! Get Sarah, now!"

Patrick stumbled back as if physically struck by the shear panic laced in her words. He moved forward to calm his wife, his arms reaching around to embrace her, but was abruptly pushed back. Concern now roared through his body as he lifted his eyes to meet her own baby blues. The briefest moment passed between them in which a silent understanding echoed in his mind.

They were coming.

He turned and fled from the room, taking the stairs two at a time as he sprinted up two flights. The chilled air tugged at his loose clothes as he ran toward the first door on the right. His approach sparked the receiver pad and the door slid open on its own volition, revealing a quaint little room, dimly lit by a single light shielded beneath a thin blanket. The luminescence gave the blanket an orange glow and the shadow of a young child could just be made out beneath its cover.

The light was hastily extinguished when the door opened and the bulge in the sheet quickly smoothed itself out as the young girl lay back down, pretending to be asleep. On any other night, Patrick would have found this childish deceit heartwarming, but the panic in his wife's eyes echoed through his mind, and his thoughts were focused solely on the protection of his only daughter.

"Sarah, get up. We need to leave, now."

He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice, but he must have failed. The blanket in front of him was tossed to the side and his daughter sat up, all pretenses of being asleep gone in a flash. Without a second's hesitation, Sarah jumped from her bed and made her way towards her dresser.

"No, Sarah. There's no time. We need to get downstairs right now." Ignoring her startled look, Patrick reached for his daughter's hand and pulled her up into his arms. Love, devotion, and panic surged through his mind in equal proportions as he looked upon her. She had almost identical features to her mother, and her auburn hair flowed down past her knees. She rested her head on his shoulder and swung her arms around to clasp his back.

Patrick carried his daughter toward the door. As it slid back open, Sarah reached out and snatched a brown furry object off the nearest shelf. She clutched the teddy bear to her chest, a defiant look of her young face, as she glanced back over her shoulder at the room that was now quickly fading from sight. It was the last time she would ever see it again.

They reached the bottom of the staircase in no time, the floorboards straining in protest beneath their feet. Liz was there, relief awash on her face at the sight of Sarah, and she quickly reached out for her young daughter. Sarah traded hands just as a loud bang resounded from the front door.

Fear gripped Patrick as he realized they were already too late. In a split second decision, he frantically gestured towards the main staircase and looked pointedly at his wife. He stood resolute before his family.

"The storage unit beneath the stairs," he whispered with a burning fervor. "Go, hide!"

He met his wife's eyes one last time and a silent confirmation of love and commitment passed between them before she turned, clutching her daughter fiercely to her chest, and ran to the storage space. Sarah's arm stretched out behind her mothers back, hopelessly grasping for her father as he disappeared from her sight.

All of a sudden a large explosion rocked the foundations of the house and with an eerie groan, the front door was blown off its hinges. Patrick glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see a flash of auburn disappear beneath the stairs. He briefly wondered if it belonged to his wife or his daughter, before he quickly turned his attention back toward the front of his home.

An empty hallway spanned the space in front of him. When the dust settled, he looked straight through the shattered door and glimpsed the cold features of the December landscape. Snow was everywhere now, and it covered the trees and the ground like a fresh feathered blanket. Patrick glanced down at the covered walkway that led up to his home - there were no footprints in sight.

Then in a flash, the air in front of him became distorted. The very air molecules seemed to vibrate, as if they had been superheated, and brief glimpses of electric current flickered around the human forms that were now beginning to materialize before his eyes.

And then they were there.

Three lean, and well-muscled soldiers, each completely encased in identical, slim-fitting bio-suits. Their faces were shielded by what looked like bio-hazard helms and black tubing connected these helms to their armored suits. Slings holding rounds of ammunition rested across each of their chests and multipurpose utility belts hung from their waists. Slung across their backs were identical sniper rifles – the weapon of a Ghost.

Patrick was less concerned about the weapons hanging from their backs and more focused on the ARG-14 assault rifles that were gripped strongly in their arms. His mining job had often placed him in settlements hosting a marine barracks and he had seen, first hand, the destructive power of these weapons.

He unconsciously took a few steps back as one of the three Ghosts casually moved forward. Glowing green eye sockets bore down on him and the voice that emanated from the helm was oddly distorted, though distinctly male.

"Patrick Kerrigan, I am Unit 37. Under statute 311 of the Confederacy, your daughter, Sarah Kerrigan, is to be quarantined under the Confederacy of Man."

Hate and anger welled up inside Patrick as he glared at the soldier. He understood his words all too well. There was no quarantine. This was conscription. This was the brainwashing of all the gifted children in the sector. He had hoped for the longest time that Sarah would escape their eyes, that she would be free to live a normal life… He would not let them take her.

"She's been sent away for boarding school," he lied, trying to stay calm as panic swept over him in waves. The sweat on his face betrayed him. "She no longer lives here."

Unit 37 cocked his head to the side, sizing Patrick up with what seemed like an air of amusement. Then, with no warning at all, the metal of the soldiers' rifle gleamed in the light as it was swung upwards. The butt of the weapon struck a heavy blow to Patrick's temple and he was knocked clean off his feet, before falling to the floor unconscious.

"The wife and child are hiding in the storage unit beneath the staircase," the soldier dictated without emotion while looking down at the still form of Patrick. Blood was now leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Use standard extraction procedure."

In a brief second they had closed around the hatch leading to the storage unit. With uncanny speed and strength, Unit 37 ripped the metal latch off its hinges and roughly tossed it aside. Liz was in the corner of the small, damp room, shielding her daughter from the soldier's sight. She was visibly shaking, and cried out in protest as the soldier forcibly grasped her arm and dragged her and Sarah from the small room.

A second soldier made to take Sarah from her mother's arms, but Liz moved quickly, pulling the young girl back and out of the soldier's reach. She then arched her neck and abruptly spat in the soldier's face.

For her troubles, she received a harsh backhand to the face. The crack of a broken jaw echoed in the night and Sarah clenched her small fists. She remained silent - an odd feat for an eight year old in her current situation - as she looked upon her mother, who was clutching her already bruising face in shock.

Then Sarah saw her father.

His still form lay prone on the ground, a pool of blood arched in a halo around his head. Sarah shut her eyes tightly. Her still clenched fists began to simmer as light blue light pulsed from her enclosed palms. Vibrating with anger and a power she had never known, her whole body began to pulse slowly. She opened her eyes and looked back at the soldier who had struck her mother.

The soldier gasped as smoldering blue flames appeared deep in Sarah's eyes. He made to move forward to restrain the girl, who was now trembling with righteous anger, but was thrown off his feet and into wall as a concussive force of crackling blue energy exploded from the young girl. The two other soldiers fell to their knees, clutching their heads in their hands. There was a clatter as their rifles fell uselessly to the ground.

A piercing scream broke Sarah from her anger and she spun around. Her mother was on her knees, clutching her head as she rocked back and forth violently. A look of pure agony spread across Liz's sharp features, and her eyes met her daughter's one last time before her head exploded in a swirl of crackling blue light.

Shock washed over Sarah as she watched her mother's limp body fall to the floor. The horror of what she had just done struck her with all the force of a nuclear blast and she too fell. She brought her knees to her chest as tears slowly leaked from her baby blue eyes. A whirlwind of emotions ravished her mind and she was only vaguely aware when the soldiers regained consciousness.

They moved towards her cautiously, and one soldier knelt down to pick up the teddy bear that had dropped from Sarah's grasp. Blood coated its brown fur.

Sarah stared off into space, uncaring of the movements around her. She hoped she would wake up soon.


	2. The Journey

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 2: The Journey**

**

* * *

**

He always thought it had just been a phase, his "saving people" thing. He figured that if he ever fulfilled the prophecy he'd finally be able to settle down, meet a nice girl, and raise a family. You know, be a normal person for once. But it wasn't a phase, and he most certainly wasn't normal. It turns out that it wasn't even about saving people - it was about adventure.

_Welcome to Judge Magney State Park_

Harry looked up at the battered wooden sign and shook his head in amusement. After all his adventures, after laying to rest the Voldemort chapter of his life, and the vapid social scene that followed, Fate had finally led him here, to the precipice of a rocky cliff in the United States. To _Minnesota_, of all places. Whoever was running the show up there was certainly not without a sense of humor.

A cool breeze brushed against his face and he pulled his cloak tighter yet. All around him, beautiful pines pierced the night sky, reaching their crests on high as if hoping to grasp their own little pieces of heaven. He could hear small creatures scurrying out from the underbrush below while their destructors stalked the skies overhead. The night was awash with life, and for the first time in awhile, Harry felt alive too. A second later he had found what he was looking for and disappeared. A faint pop echoed out into the night.

Ron and Hermione, Fleur and Bill, Remus and Tonks - they all had their dream lives together, and he was genuinely happy for them. Harry just couldn't live that life. There was always something missing, a hole in his chest that he could feel every morning when he woke up, no matter who was laying next to him. He wasn't bitter; after all, it had definitely been fun at first. But the novelty of it all had worn away far too quickly for his liking, and the only things that ever quelled his unrest, if just for a little while, were his journeys.

He reappeared a mile north. The soothing sound of falling water, nature's own lullaby, met his ears as he looked down upon Devil's Kettle Falls.

He had first heard about the place from none other than Hermione Granger, the poster child for useless facts, herself. The waterfall was apparently a complete mystery to muggle scientists, who had been jamming shit down the pothole for years now. No surprise there, really. They were way too narrow-minded to understand the implications of such a creation. Even us magical folk didn't have a firm grasp on what it did. We knew it had magical properties and left it at that. After all, there were more important things in the world than queer waterfalls.

Lately, the place had become a tourist trap of massive proportions. Bored muggles would come by the dozens to watch half a river disappear into a hole, never to be seen from again. The mystery behind it all was what attracted them, and they would sit for hours on end, watching the scene unfold while pondering the deeper meanings of life and existence. Ignorance truly was bliss.

Harry had taken to visiting the falls at night in order to avoid these sightseeing mobs. Each night for the past month he would apparate overseas to his spot and make his way down to the pothole. Ever so slowly he had been creating a runic system, one that when finished, would hopefully unveil the magical signature of the place. It wasn't particularly difficult magic, if you had a group of decent wizards for the task, but no one really seemed to care enough.

Tonight would mark the completion of the runic system, and Harry bubbled with excitement. Something had drawn him to this place, and whether it was his imagination or not, he couldn't shake the feeling that the hole in his chest seemed to shrink whenever he was there. He drew his wand and set to work.

After all, he had high hopes for this little project. It promised to be his best journey yet.

* * *

Things had certainly not gone as planned.

Harry wore a deep scowl as he glared done at the components of his runic system, which remained as lifeless as the rocks he had carved them from. He checked the inscriptions, and then rechecked the layout of the runes. The stabilizer was set, the three foci were arranged in the correct formation, the louche and arko were accurate…

"Fuck!" he screamed out into the night before swinging his leg up and punting one of the stone foci. It flew through the air and struck a nearby pine, causing needles to flood the encampment.

Even in his anger, Harry looked on with bated breath. He had seen enough crappy movies in his time to silently hope that this small act of violence might somehow fix the problem. When the sole result was to send a brown, furry squirrel scampering up the pine, it only served to further upset him. In exasperation, he glared at the small animal as it wound its way around the gnarled trunk, disappearing near the peak. The canopy shook under the creatures weight and Harry watched as it's blurred-green movements interacted with the skyline behind it. Then, suddenly he paused and glanced back at the spot where only seconds ago the squirrel had been. For a moment, Harry seemed lost in thought, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he began mumbling incoherently.

"…of course…three-dimensional vertices…and…of course!"

A fire flickered deep in his dark green eyes and he turned back towards his runic system with renewed vigor. With a silent incantation and a flick of his wrist, the three stone foci were thrown into the air above Devil's Kettle. They remained there, in defiance of natural law, as a second movement brought them into a triangular formation. The edges fell into perfect alignment, taking up their positions parallel to the night sky.

"Jioles," Harry whispered under his breath and the runes remained fixed in the air, as if held up by an invisible hand.

A final swish and the six remaining runes joined the others in the sky, where they were abruptly sectioned off into two lines of three. One line was situated above the focal triangle and the other just below it. As the final runes assumed their proper stations, their carved inscriptions began to pulse with an ethereal glow and a soft whisper could just be made out on the edges of the wind. It was an unspoken cry for the release of the magic contained within.

Harry stepped forward and paused just before the edge of the rapids. His wand was raised aloft and his heavy cloak, caught as it was in the wind, pulled fiercely at his back. In a sharp movement, he curved his wand around his raised left hand, as one would spin a tire around its axle. The focal triangle, still suspended in the air, responded in turn, rotating around its own invisible axis. Harry repeated the action time and time again until the triangle seemed to move under its own propulsion.

With a final glance at the stage he had set, Harry allowed a huge grin to cross his face and stowed his wand within the folds of his robes.

And with that, he snapped his fingers.

One by one the runes began to glow with faint purple light. Thin wisps of magic emerged from the stones and connected them into a series as one power symbol fed into the next. The light intensified and grew to a blinding crescendo, before exploding outward in a vicious wave.

For a split second, Harry stood on edge. If he had botched the focal triangle then all hell was about to break loose, and he wasn't particular interested in sticking around for that. In case it did, he brought apparation to the front of his mind. But the moment passed and his doubts were put to rest as the light, which had threatened to breach the system, was captured by the swirling focus. It sunk down, like a sea-faring vessel trapped in a whirlpool, and was funneled into the final three runes.

The light was brilliant, too brilliant, and Harry threw out his hands to shield his eyes. He took a step back, almost tripping over himself, as a pure beam of energy erupted from the bottom rune. The river water surged up around the light, forming a vortex of rippling waves that pressed against the sides of the pothole as if attempting to flee from the magic that now impaled the center of Devil's Kettle.

Harry glanced down into the depths of the pothole. Through the haze, he could barely make out the rough features of a jungle landscape, and at its center stood a structure that was at once both ancient and advanced.

He smiled as he realized he had been right. It was a two-way portal.

* * *

Devil's Kettle was alive.

Magic and water traded spaces as they surged up around each other, dancing to the unheard rhythm of nature. They moved as one, so close together, but never quite touching, like that brief, but timeless moment before a first kiss. All of nature was privy to their dance, and the sky and land were filled with the primal cries of their residents. The magic was intoxicating and all life seemed held within its grasp.

None felt that grasp more firmly than Harry.

He stood dumbfounded before the portal, wand limp in hand and feet balanced precariously over the edge. The slightest of drafts would thrust him forward and into the torrent below, but he was unafraid. In fact, he almost welcomed it.

_Jump! What's left in the world for the man who fulfills his destiny? A grapefruit size hole in his chest, apparently. Jump and you'll find what you're looking for - you'll find that missing piece. Jump._

It was a feeling he recognized, and at the same time, it was something else entirely. It was an incredible feeling – like veela charm on steroids or the after effects of being hit with multiple imperiuses. His mind was guided by a single goal, a single intense moment to come, and though the prophecy had long since been fulfilled, he once more felt the comfort that was born out of genuine _purpose_.

Harry ignored the tinge of reason that was attempting to lay siege to his stolen mind. Instead, he looked up and gazed upon the skyline above. His eyes lingered for a moment on the full moon before he leaned forward, well past his balance point, and fell headfirst into the rippling water below.

The pain woke him from his daze.

Apparition was nothing compared to this. There was no dissociation and reasociation of particles here. Harry's entire body was on fire. His torso was stretched through the wormhole-like portal, making its way to its final destination, while his head remained fixed above the surface of Devil's Kettle. Harry made to scream but his head was struck by waves and he swallowed water. Years worth of time seemed to elapse within the span of seconds until the agony became almost unbearable. Suddenly, his legs broke through some sort of gate. There was one final moment of stretching and Harry's feet hit solid ground. His body recoiled like a stretched out rubber band, rocketing his head, neck, and chest through the portal his legs had just traversed.

His upper body struck his lower half with intense force and the whiplash brought Harry to a knee. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth - he had bitten through his lip - and his teeth rattled dangerously. His clothes were drenched with river water, the extra weight almost enough to cripple him in his moment of weakness. He dropped his head under the strain and rested it against the cool, damp ground.

Harry took a moment to gain his bearings before steadying himself as best he could and attempting to rise. Nausea rocked his body. He staggered backwards clumsily, like a drunkard outside a pub, before he met the ground once more and vomited. Whatever the fuck had just happened, he was extremely lightheaded. It felt as if all the blood in his body had somehow found its way to his brain. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to message the pain away, then glanced up.

He was in a forest, but one much different from Judge Magney State Park. Not alien, per say, but wherever he was, it was no longer Minnesota - that much was obvious. A felled tree lay about a yard in front of him and it rested over bright green foliage of all varieties. Ivies, shrubs, and fallen leaves littered the floor. A shallow steam cut its way through the underbrush. Harry followed its path with his eyes until he met the horizon. Piercing through the cover of the rain forest was the ancient structure he had briefly seen before. It looked to be some sort of pyramid, but the Egyptians definitely couldn't lay claim to this one. For one thing, it was for the most part purple, and for another, there were what looked like large black fangs molded into its sides.

Harry's gaze reached the diamond like structure that rested on its peak and he instinctively clutched his chest. It wasn't pain that forced his hand; something about the pyramid was calling to him, reaching deep within his essence. Harry paused for a moment and then glanced behind himself. There, sheathed by foliage, was a spitting image of Devil's Kettle, perhaps ready to return him to his own world. Harry stared at the portal for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes lingered on the rippling waters, almost hoping to see a glimpse of his own world, a reason to go back, but it was not to be. He had left his old life behind time and time again in his dreams. Now it was finally time to make it a reality. He turned and headed in the direction of the pyramid.

* * *

Harry was starting to get pissed off.

The pyramid was only about a quarter mile away now, but the jungle was beginning to take its toll. Scrapes and cuts lingered on Harry's face and arms and sweat trickled off his brow, the salt water burning his eyes. He could have easily fixed these annoyances, but he was reluctant to use magic. He wasn't exactly sure who, or what, was waiting for him at the pyramid, but surprise was always an advantage. If he used magic, he might as well launch a flare while he was at it.

The growl was the only warning. He had barely turned when a blurred black shape exploded out of the bushes, claws gleaming in the light. The jungle cat landed with full force on Harry, throwing him off his feet. He cried out in pain as the cat fell on top of him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and crushing his chest. His wand, batted uselessly from his hand, skidded to a stop in the mud, just out of reach.

Adrenaline kicked in. Harry barely even noticed when the animal raked two large paws across his torso, shredding his chest. He desperately maneuvered one of his arms free from beneath the giant cat. From his pocket, he fished out his cold chisel, his rune-carving tool, and thrust it up just as the cat went for his neck. Cool steel ripped through exposed flesh and thick blood leaked down onto Harry's face. He freed his other hand and drove the chisel deeper. The cat emitted a final cry before it fell dead on top of him.

For a moment, Harry lay on the ground in shock. A giant fucking cat had just almost killed him. _A giant fucking cat_. After everything he had been through, death by cat would have been a pretty big disappointment. He never would have lived that one down.

He raised his arms once again and retrieved his chisel. As he did so, he caught the panther's eyes. The lifeless black orbs seemed to penetrate deep into his very soul. It unnerved him. "Sorry fella…" he whispered, before rolling the limp cat off to the side. Harry made to stand, but crumpled under his own weight. The rush of adrenaline had masked his injuries, but now that the moment had died down, intense pain flooded his system. Blood leaked fiercely from his chest and he could feel the internal damage his broken ribs had caused. Knives stabbed him every time he drew a breath.

It was a simple choice. Magic or death.

* * *

It was sundown before Harry finished healing himself. The cuts and gashes had been relatively easy. The bones had been painful. Two ribs had simply shattered under the weight of the cat. That in itself would have been bad enough, but the bone splinters had torn apart his insides. He had spent hours on end locating and removing each shard. Of course, the alternative was dying a most painful death when a sudden movement caused a shard to pierce a vital organ. Again, not much of a choice.

On the bright side, Harry had been forced to use magic, and now there was no reason to hold back. He threw up a bunch of defense wards, not wanting another incident with the local wildlife, and conjured a sleeping bag. Though he was healed, his body was still too weak to continue.

Gently, he slipped into his sleeping bag. After everything that had happened, he doubted he would be able to get to sleep, but the magic had taken its toll, and he soon drifted off.

That night, Harry dreamed.

He was standing in a circular stone room. It would have been pitch black save for a single blue light resting on a stone dais. The dais itself stood at the epicenter. As Harry moved closer, he realized the light was some type of energy, and that within it hovered a small cube of extremely intricate design. Various symbols, unknown but ancient, were carved into its black shell. An air of power surrounded it.

Harry had never felt more drawn to anything in his entire life. His pull towards Devil's Kettle and the pyramid was nothing in comparison. His heart pulsed strongly in his chest…was it his heart? He moved closer and raised a shaking hand. His fingers tingled as they passed through the blue light. It felt like static electricity. And then, Harry closed his hand around the cube. Skin dissolved into light, the same blue light, and Harry glanced down at his hands with a mixture of concern and amazement. He curled his fingers, watching the light consent, and the metamorphosis surged up his arm and transformed his entire body.

A breeze, blackness, and intense speed.

Harry sat bolt upright, and opened his eyes. Bright blue light flickered for a moment before green broke through the haze. The morning sun was just beginning to pierce through the jungle canopy overhead, and thin tendrils of light broke across his face, warming away the shivers his dream had summoned.

Harry brushed his matted hair out of his eyes, before getting up and casually flicking his wand. The sleeping bag disappeared with a slight pop, back to whatever plane of reality it had come from. Another twirl, and the wards blinked out of existence. With their loss, a quiet breeze broke through the encampment, carrying with it a mysterious tinge of magic. Harry looked up once more at the diamond resting at the apex of the pyramid, before turning to face the path before him.

Underbrush? No problem. Harry grinned and jerked his wand just past his waist. The hair on his arms sizzled as a torrent of flames breached the tip. Almost immediately, the flames became fiery claws that grasped the wooden length and pushed the rest of their essence out of the shaft. The amorphous terror spiraled forward, feasting greedily on the air, as it cut through the surroundings with unhindered grace.

A quick mental nudge and a thin, invisible layer of gel nestled itself around Harry's figure. He paused for a moment, letting the gel take hold, before stepping forward and wading through the blistering flames. Foliage turned to ash beneath his feet. Fuck the jungle.

* * *

It wasn't long before Harry broke through the edge of the furnace he had created. He stood, encased in flames, and glanced up at the structure before him. The shear presence of the thing left him breathless.

Harry had only seen the Pyramids at Giza once before, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The stonework was composed almost entirely of lapis lazuli, except for the edging, which was lined with a black stone he had never come across before. From the base of the structure, four finger-like projections, one for each corner, lay across the ground. They must have been at least three hundred meters long, enough to reach the top of the pyramid and then some. Each was forged of blackened bone.

At the structure's peak rested the diamond that had captured Harry's attention all to often. It stood stock still, hovering in the air above four smaller finger-like projections. For a moment, Harry stood entranced as the light reflected off its edges. And then, a flicker of movement in front of him forced his eyes away.

Two large black doors had materialized at the base of the pyramid. Each stood at least eight meters tall and sported multiple bronze panels that reminded Harry distinctly of the Gates of Paradise. For on each panel, a scene was etched. Some retold epic battles, others the ascension of deities, and others still, the forging of races. A single human figure stood alone amongst creatures that were distinctly alien. The thought made Harry shudder.

Without a sound, the doors opened outward, like arms welcoming a guest.

Harry strode forward cautiously. Trap or not, forward was the only choice that mattered now. He drew his wand and shielded his left hand. Then he entered the doorway.

The air was damp, and as Harry moved through the unlit walkway, he had the distinct feeling that no one had been inside this place for a long damn time. After a few minutes, the walkway opened up into a huge central chamber. It was pitch-black save for a blue light radiating off a stone dais. Harry couldn't say he was shocked to see his dream become a reality.

As he moved toward the dais, an old and ancient voice rang out into the darkness. The language was one Harry had never heard before, but as the words reverberated off the walls, the echoes seemed to merge, forming distorted English.

"Traveler, you have destroyed Vas'aril. Judgment is upon you."

The words seemed to take on meaning within his head, and he realized with shock that the speaker was using legilimency. Still, he needed the translation. Harry quickly focused his thoughts, shielding the deeper regions of his mind, before responding.

He tried for something sophisticated, but that was never really his strong suit. Instead, all he could muster was a dull, "Um…the what?"

"The Eternal Forest," the voice boomed inside Harry's head. "You are not the Wanderer. _Zerashk Gulida_!" The threatening tone was translation enough.

"Oh," Harry said, lost for words. He stood there, momentarily stunned, as a million appropriate things to say passed through his mind. And yet all that came out was a poor attempt at lightening the mood. He gave a tentative laugh and muttered under his breath, "Well, shit. Eternal Forest? That's kind of a misleading nam-"

An audible buzz rang out on the air behind Harry. Without a seconds thought, he turned and dropped to a knee as the air shimmer before his eyes. A rippling sword of pure energy slashed through the air. Shockwaves of concussive force surged outward as the sword made contact with a layer of magic mere inches from Harry's outstretched hand. The preC-shield had saved his life.

In a flash, he drew his wand. A whip-like motion and the invisible attacker was thrown into the nearest wall, kicking up dust motes that lingered on the air. The blue light from the dais passed through the rising particles, which bent the light and allowed Harry to see to true danger of his current situation. Twenty, maybe thirty more guardians moved toward him, closing in on his position with every passing second. Mentally, he reached for that feeling that had never let him down before, but when he opened his eyes, the situation remained unchanged. Perhaps worse.

Abject horror washed through Harry. He began ripping off curses as he desperately stole glances around the chamber. Two more guardians fell before his eyes caught the stone dais, and the cube resting above. Images of his dream flashed through his mind, and in that moment, he knew it was his only escape.

The marble flooring passed quickly under his feet and he reached the top of the dais just as the guardians had overtaken the lower platform. With a deep sigh, Harry reached into the blue light. The tingling sensation was the same as in his dream, and when his fingers closed around the cold shell of the cube, it danced along his skin. Flesh turned to light before his eyes, until his entire body moved on the wind. He was only vaguely aware of the guardians, now only meters behind him.

Harry felt his very essence sucked into the blackness of the cube. In that moment, the entire pyramid trembled as the massive finger-like projections arched off the ground. They met in an embrace above the diamond-studded apex, encasing the structure in a cage of blackened bone. Its formation triggered the blue light, which exploded from the dais. It rocketed upwards through the tip of the pyramid, before striking the diamond above. The light reflected off of every facet and blanketed the sky in a brilliant blue haze.

Back inside the chamber, twin energy swords slashed through the air. They struck the dais with intense force, displacing enough energy to cause the particles of the marble to vibrate into oblivion. The explosion rocked the entire chamber, and as the blue light began to flicker and die, the cube fell. It trembled once, mid descent, before collapsing in on itself and disappearing into nothingness.

* * *

**A.N. **Well, here's a belated holiday gift for you guys. I enjoy hearing your thoughts, so post a review - it's fast, easy, and painless. And it makes me happy.

Until next time.


	3. Conscious, Part I

**Disclaimer:** It's not mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 3: Conscious, Part I**

**

* * *

**

Moria. Year 2491

A brief moment of white noise sounded out, before the light on the ComLink flickered green. The static died down to a low whisper, and a stern, gruff voice rose over the intercom.

"Recon-2, report."

A thin, gangly kid reached down to his belt and flicked the switch on the receiver. He was young, no older than twenty-one, but dressed the part of a soldier despite his build. Thick plated armor covered his chest, and a thinner layer of leather ran the length of his legs and arms. On his waist sat a utility belt that housed his ComLink, as well as a few extra rounds of ammunition. His head was exposed, and his thin brown eyes darted back and forth between the other members of his unit. Eventually, he gave in.

"This is Recon-2," he responded. His fingers fumbled with the volume on his ComLink as he paced back and forth. "Nothing to report yet, sir. Our AOR seems barren. Nothing but vespene gas deposits and red sand for a hundred clicks in any direction."

"And your readings, _Private_?"

"What?...Oh! Um…" He fished a metal cartridge out of his pocket and glanced at the display. "228 P.E.D., sir."

"Very well, continue your search. I'll expect another report in an hour's time. Oh, and Hung -" The voice paused for effect, before continuing in a bored tone. "Try not to be so useless."

"'Course, si-" The light turned off and the ComLink went dead. Laughter filled the dry air behind Private Hung. When he finally turned back to the rest of his unit, his face was beet red.

A large, broad-chested soldier slowly stopped laughing. With his meaty hands – hands made to carry a rifle - he wiped away the tears that had formed at the corner of his eyes. Then he quieted the other troops.

"What? Oh…Oh…Ummm…" he mimicked Hung in a sniveling tone. A few soldiers snickered. "For fuck's sake Hung, stop being such a fringe bitch."

"Stuff it, Crowley," a thin, but dangerous looking woman interjected. Her hair was done up in a serious bun. Her dark eyes burned like coals.

"Oh c'mon, Tessa. Everyone knows Rimes put this punk in charge just to humiliate him. It's a fucking joke."

"That's Lieutenant Rimes, you scumbag," she replied, her voice as sharp as a blade. "Now sack up. The faster we close out our sector the sooner we can get off this damn rock."

Crowley grunted in resigned acceptance. He looked back at Hung and smirked before making his way toward the next ridge just a few clicks out. Tessa shouldered her rifle and made to follow him. But Hung was there now. He reached out and gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks for that," he murmured, ashamed by his own timidity. Tessa paused but didn't turn to face him.

"Just try and grow a pair, alright? I won't always be there to step in." And with that, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and followed after Crowley. Hung stared wistfully at her retreating back. He couldn't help but admire the way the leather clung to her form, accentuating her every curve and grace. A brief moment passed before he shook his head and shouldered his rifle clumsily.

The other soldiers were moving out now, kicking up red plumes of sand as they marched across the desert plain. Dust devils spiraled about in the distance. The place was truly a hellhole – the color just confirmed it. Hung bent down to gather up his supplies but paused as a frantic _beeping_ exploded from his pocket. The frequency continued to increase until the sound was simply a loud wail. He once more fished the metal cartridge from his pocket and glanced down in shock. The rest of his unit had already turned back.

"3,000 P.E.D. and rising!" he shouted to the others. "We're gonna have an Event!"

The entire unit raised their rifles, the metal flashing dangerously under the desert suns. Hung flipped the switch on his ComLink.

"Lieutenant Rimes, do you copy?"

"Hung, what the hell is the matter with you?" Rimes replied, more in exasperation than anger. "I said –"

"An Event, sir! We're having an Event!"

"What? Coordinates, you fool!" Rimes thundered through the Link. Hung could even hear the spittle hit the receiver on the other end. He touched the holographic band on his wrist and fumbled with the Grid Reference System.

"Ah… 04QFJ…913 –"

The sound was deafening. A burst of electromagnetic energy exploded outward from a point suspended above the ground. All electronics went dead. The sands kicked up, spinning like a whirlwind, as they were sucked into a hole in the air – a literal tear in the fabric of space-time.

"Down! Everybody down!" Tessa shouted as she threw herself to the ground.

The tear in space lit up like a firecracker. Bright blue light surged through it, cackling and rippling through the air, as it struck out like lightning. Wherever it touched down, it scorched the earth. The light grew in intensity until it was almost blinding, and the soldiers were forced to shield their eyes from the glare.

But as they did, everything went quiet. The blue light receded. The tear began to shrink into nothingness. A faint pop broke the silence as the tear phased out of existence and a small object materialized in its place.

A black metal cube fell through the air. It struck the ground and rolled to a stop a meter in front of Hung and the young soldier released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. The Event was over; they were alive.

And then, the cube shuddered to life, sending his heart racing once again. Every soldier in the unit formed a perfect line of sight on the object and the sound of safeties being removed rang through the embankment. A light blue mist began to seep from the edges of the cube. The mist rose above the ground, where it swirled about and began to take on human form. Head, chest, and arms materialized first, followed quickly by the lower half of the figure's body. The humanoid light shimmered under the twin suns of Moria. Light turned to flesh and bone until a young man stood before them.

He was no older than twenty-four, with shaggy black hair and pale skin. There was some decent height to him, and he filled out his black robes quite well. His build was lean, but firm. And when he looked up, vibrant green eyes opened wide in shock as they took in their surroundings. They flickered from the sky, where the twin suns stood overhead, to the ragtag unit of soldiers before him, all armed and on edge. He stumbled forward, his legs shaking under his weight, before collapsing to a knee and vomiting.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people!" Harry shouted out at the unit, before wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. "Why puking? Why is it always puking?"

Hung glanced at the rest of his unit with a confused look, but Harry didn't wait for a response. He steadied himself with his left hand and shakily rose to his full height. As he did, his wand slid out of the sleeve of his robe and fell into his waiting hand. The soldiers tightened their grips on their rifles.

It was Tessa who spoke first. "You're unarmed and surrounded. Don't do anything stupid." Without ever turning away from Harry, she addressed Hung. "Get the ComLink working. Notify Lieutenant Rimes that we have a prisoner for transport."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and mouthed the word prisoner. Then he raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Um, yeah…sorry to interrupt what must be great plans and all, but I think you have the wrong guy here. And did you say unarmed?"

Crowley puffed out his already massive chest and asserted himself. "What are you? Some fringe-worlder?" He ignored the twitch he received from Hung. "Course you have no weapon – look at you."

Genuine confusion washed over Harry and he shook his head in disbelief. They didn't recognize his wand? Had he not just magically appeared out of nowhere? "Right, something weird is going on here… but first things first, I guess. This –" He swished his wand lazily "- may just look like a stick, but it's actually an incredibly powerful weapon. So, I don't think I'll be anyone's prisoner anytime soo–"

Most of the unit broke down into fits of laughter. Of the few who were controlling themselves, Tessa stepped forward. "Crowley, you wanna take care of this?"

"Look, you _really_ don't want to do this," Harry said, stiffening into a battle stance.

But his words fell of deaf ears. The large man simply grinned in reply and stalked forward, his massive form almost large enough to block out the sunlight. "Fine, don't say I didn't warn you…" Harry muttered under his breath. He slashed his wand through the air at breakneck speed and a pure beam of white light struck Crowley in the chest, blasting him off his feet. He hit the ground with a dull thud, going in and out of consciousness as his large hands reflexively clenched his rifle. Shocked silence reigned over the scene.

If only for a second.

"Psychic!" The word sent terror through the ranks.

"Aim to incapacitate. Do not kill him!" Tessa shouted over the uproar, and in that moment, all hell broke loose. Round after round zipped through the air and the empty shells gleamed in the light of the gunfire. The noise was deafening, but wholly ineffective. The bullets hit nothing but air.

Harry materialized behind Tessa, his eyes burning with a fierce determination. He jerked his wand up and shot off a stunner point blank into her back. As she crumpled to the ground, he spun on his heels, cloak billowing behind him, and disappeared just as gunfire focused on his new position. Panic now surged through the unit. Their fire became sloppy and more than a few stray bullets hit some of their own, severely thinning their ranks.

Harry reappeared to the side of an older soldier. The man was spinning around frantically, firing off rounds like a maniac. Before he could make a final rotation, Harry grabbed his rifle and swung it up. Cool metal struck the soldier's jaw, causing him to stagger backwards. As the man regained his balance, Harry brandished his wand and blasted the soldier off his feet.

Only two more remained. Harry staggered on his feet and threw up a silver shield. A new wave of bullets hit the magical wall before falling uselessly to the ground. The shield rippled, but otherwise held strong. Harry twirled his wand one last time and produced two successive stunners. One hit its retreating target in the back and the soldier fell flat on his face, shattering his nose. The other caught Hung in the gut as he frantically tinkered with his ComLink. His brown eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground, limp as a rag doll.

Alone for the moment, Harry dropped to a knee. His vision flickered and the desert landscape swam before his eyes. He tried to get back up, but a deep-seated feeling of nausea overtook him and he dry heaved.

Five hundred meters away, a light flickered off a scope. A gunshot followed soon after. Pain and nausea rocked Harry's body as he was thrown backwards onto the sand.

Blood flowed freely on the dunes of Moria.

* * *

Harry stirred but didn't open his eyes. He felt oddly numb, as if he had taken an extended ice bath, but he wasn't cold at all. In fact, he felt…good, if not out of it. He took a deep breath and was hit with the distinct smell of alcohol. To his right, an odd mechanical buzzing rang in his ear. Overhead, lights were on and a tinge of orange played across the inside of his eyelids.

Slowly, he brought his hands up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he opened them, a spider network of white lights stared back down at him from the ceiling. They were dimmed, and as he sluggishly gained his bearings and glanced to the right, he stared in shock at the source of the buzzing. Twin mechanical arms, both connected to a mobile platform on the ceiling, swiveled about his side. They wound around each other in small arcs as they wove in and out of a thick bullet hole.

The sight of the injury brought Harry back to reality. Memories of his desert encounter with the soldiers flooded his brain and one word echoed in his mind – _prisoner_. His body stiffened and magic surged through his system, summoned by an unspoken need. As it did, the morning haze seemed to recede beneath the intensity of his beating heart. He glanced around the room, trying to determine his best course of action, when a frantic _beeping_ went off. Before he could react, a green light blinked on overhead and a silver door slid open. Harry's body tensed.

A petite young woman walked through the entryway. She couldn't have been much older than Harry was, but she walked with a certain edge, as if she had seen horrible things in her time. Her bleached blond hair was tied back haphazardly, and if she had any curve to her figure, it was hidden beneath a baggy set of blue medical scrubs. When she looked up, her baby blues met Harry's fiery gaze. Despite the edge she seemed to carry, there was a genuine softness to her eyes, and though he knew his situation was dire, Harry couldn't help but relax slightly at the sight of her. Without thinking, he loosened his grip on his magic and, almost immediately, an odd haze blanketed his senses once more.

"You shouldn't be up. The desonil should have knocked you out for hours," the young woman said with concern and more than a hint of curiosity. Harry clumsily tried to get up, but she rested her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down. "Try not to move."

For the first time, Harry noticed the leads attached to his chest. Thousands of thoughts swirled through his head, but the same euphoric feeling from earlier stilled his tongue. He was quite out of it. The best he could do was narrow his eyes in confusion. Luckily, this seemed to be enough.

"Relax," she said calmly. "I'm Dara – I'm a medic. Just lie back for now. You're bound to feel out of it for a little while – those are some powerful drugs in your system. In fact, I don't even know how you're awake. You -"

_Drugs_. Disturbing memories of the second great wizarding war flashed through Harry's mind and his magic surged within him once more. As it pounded through his veins, it consumed the remnants of the drugs that had been pumped into his system. Almost immediately, his head began to clear, though pain quickly replaced the haze. He gritted his teeth and glanced down at his side. The mechanical arms were a blur of movement as they stitched skin and muscle back together. For every pass that they made, Harry felt a ripple of pain shoot up his body.

On instinct alone, he reached for his wand, a healing spell already on his lips before he realized it had been taken. He tensed, and a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead. While he wasn't hopeless without it, if they had destroyed his wand, his abilities would be severely crippled. He tried to calm himself and quickly took stock of his situation. He wasn't in a cell, and he clearly wasn't dead. They were even healing him. The time for blowing shit up was over – he needed to play nice now. They held all the cards.

He tried as best as he could to keep his voice even. "Where am I? What do you people want with me?" Dara looked back at him in shock, clearly surprised by his lucidity. However, as she opened her mouth to respond, the green light overhead flickered on once more, and the silver door slid back open.

This time, two men appeared in the entryway. Both were about the same height, but that was where the similarities ended. The first was bald, missing most of his left ear, and heavily scarred. His nose was largely crooked, most likely the result of numerous breaks, and his eyes were unnervingly cold as they swept the room. Harry was instantly reminded of Moody. The second man was regal in comparison. His features seemed carved from stone and he sported high check bones and a sharp chin. He had a full head of dark brown hair and a thick beard, though both showed hints of gray. His eyes were deep brown wells of power. Despite their appearances, Harry knew instantly which man was the more dangerous of the two.

"You are aboard the Hyperion, a battlecruiser under my command," the bearded man said as he stepped forward and into the room. The other man followed after him, his right hand never leaving the pistol belted at his waist. "You are here as a guest of the Sons of Khoral. My name is Artcurus Mengsk, and this -" he inclined his head toward the scarred man, "-is Lieutenant Rimes." As soon as they had entered the infirmary, Dara excused herself without another word.

"So do you shoot all your guests, or am I just special?" Harry questioned coolly. There was no point in asking the basic questions when the answers were already obvious: _The future. Space. Far, far away_. He needed to know what he had gotten himself into, and he figured Mengsk was a man who would appreciate some backbone.

For a second though, Harry wasn't sure if he hadn't seriously misjudged the man. He watched as Mengsk simply stared back at him, his features devoid of all emotion. To his right, Rimes' hand twitched on his pistol, his scarred face twisted into a snarl that exposed his severely crooked teeth. But then Mengsk chuckled, and Harry's moment of concern ended.

"I'm afraid I cannot take the credit for that. That would be Lieutenant Rimes' doing," he replied with a smile now. Rimes' face contorted into something that may or may not have been a grin. "I've never been quite good with guns, after all. But in any case, it appears there was no lasting harm done..." He gestured toward Harry's side and Harry couldn't help but be shocked. He hadn't even noticed when the pain had ceased, but his side was now completely healed. There was not a mark in sight.

Mengsk paused, watching Harry's reaction for a moment, before continuing, "I believe now is the time, as my guest, where you introduce yourself." His tone wasn't forceful, but his words seemed to demand a reply regardless.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Mengsk's eyes appeared to widen in surprise, but if he recognized the name, he didn't mention it. "Well, Harry, it seems you are more correct than even you realize - you _are_ special. When Lieutenant Rimes here told me of your abilities, I almost couldn't believe it…"

Harry's eyes flickered but he held his tongue. He wasn't going to give anything away in case Mengsk was just fishing for information.

"You see, it's been quite some time since one of your kind has walked among us. While the others believed you to be a powerful psychic, I knew better. You're a wizard, Harry."

It wasn't a question. It was simply, and undeniably, a statement of fact. Harry stared up into Mengsk's eager eyes and his first instinct was to lie – to lie his heart out. But he knew it wouldn't work. Mengsk already knew the truth; it was there, written in the depths of his eyes. And in the end, Harry's curiosity won out. He sat up and tore the leads from his chest one by one.

"What happened to the others?" he questioned carefully, while removing the last lead. The monitor behind him flatlined.

Mengsk didn't miss a beat. "The others? You mean the wizarding world?" He stepped past Harry, and with a backwards glance, flicked the monitor off. His dark brown eyes were cold - there was something indescribable about them. Harry nodded cautiously, dreading what was to come next.

"Wiped out," Mengsk replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Erased from existence during the Great Purification of the 21st century. Just like all the others deemed pollutants to the human gene pool." He turned to face Harry and balled his hand into a fist. "Poof," he whispered as he flicked his hand back open.

"Bullshit!" Harry clenched the rails of the gurney so fiercely that his knuckles turned white. "That's impossible," he spat back. "The wizarding world would have never lost a war."

Mengsk smiled sadly and dropped his eyes from Harry's gaze. "Ah, you misunderstand me. There was never a war…"

"What…?"

For the longest time, Mengsk remained silent. Minutes seemed to pass before he finally turned toward Rimes and nodded. The lieutenant, who had been standing by like a loyal dog, turned and left the room without a word.

"I'm afraid our time is up for now, Harry. We –"

"What? This is fucking insane!" Harry replied, his ire beginning to rise once again. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Mengsk took a few moments before responding, clearly choosing his next words carefully. "I believe that in the near future… we may be able to help each other…But for now, you are my guest. I will have someone show you around the ship, and to your quarters. Of course, you are free to leave if you wish – no one will stop you. Just trust me when I say that we are the lesser of many evils scattered across this galaxy."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And why should I trust you? You haven't given me a single fucking reason to –"

"Ah, yes… a single reason -" Mengsk reached into his pocket and fished around. After a few seconds of searching, he pulled out a thin piece of wood. It was eleven inches long and made from holly. "- to trust…" He stared down at his hand as he twirled Harry's wand between his fingers. And then, he flicked it through the air.

Harry was so shocked that he almost missed it. At the last second, his battle-honed reflexes kicked in and he snatched the wand out of the air. As soon as his hand closed around its length, a familiar warmth spread through his entire body.

Harry stared at the wand as if he had just been reunited with an old friend. He was so overwhelmed that he barely noticed when Mengsk turned and began to leave the infirmary.

"You know, I could kill you now… with just a flick of my wrist." Mengsk paused in stride, but didn't turn to face Harry. "I could kill you, and then destroy this entire ship."

"Indeed. But where would that leave _you_?" And with that, Mengsk walked out of the room, leaving Harry to wonder exactly what the hell had just happened.

* * *

As Harry entered into the hallway, he saw Mengsk giving orders to a young, dark skinned soldier. The boy stood at attention, soaking in every word that the older man said as if he were being given the secrets of the universe. There was something off-putting about the amount of respect Mengsk seemed to command.

When they noticed Harry's presence, Mengsk turned and introduced the soldier. "This is Private Despoh. He will give you a tour of the facilities and show you to your quarters. We'll speak again tomorrow. Until then."

Mengsk began to walk away. But about twenty paces out, he paused. "Oh, and Harry?" He turned and tossed a silver key-card through the air, which Harry caught gracefully. "Perhaps this will help you…more fully explore the area." Mengsk's eyes seemed to flicker but he didn't elaborate. Instead he looked at Despoh and pointed to the right. "Take him that way."

"'Course, sir."

And then Mengsk was gone. Harry fingered the key-card for a moment, mentally noting the small horseshoe-shaped engraving, before placing it in his pocket. "That man is a pyschopath…" he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe so, but he's also an absolute genius," Despoh said curtly. Harry was caught off guard by the response – apparently he was louder than he thought.

"Yeah…well the two usually go hand in hand," he replied absently. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened when he turned back around and realized that Despoh was already a ways down the hall. Harry shook his head and jogged after him.

The first main room that they passed looked like an overlarge lecture hall. The seating area was tiered, with hundreds of seats on each level, and at every station was a holographic display unit that appeared to be touch activated.

"This is known as the Stacks," Despoh said casually. "Documents, historical and otherwise, from the past thousand years have been digitalized and stored here."

This got Harry's attention. Maybe he would finally get some answers. "Wait, are there documents from Earth stored here?"

Despoh looked confused. "You mean from before the Long Sleep?"

Harry had no idea what the kid was talking about but he nodded anyways. He planned on checking this place out regardless.

"Of course. Our origin is widely documented. Anyways, we should move on – there's a lot more to cover."

The rest of the tour took Harry through the other major areas within the ship - most notably, the mess hall, the armory, the observation deck, and the training fields – but his thoughts never wavered from the Stacks. The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. He needed to know what could have brought about a world without magic. When they finally arrived at his quarters, and Despoh dismissed himself, Harry took off back down the hallway.

* * *

The room was completely empty. Harry chose a seat on the upper tier, giving himself the best view of the arena-like space, and sat down. The unit immediately came alive. Various LCD displays lit up on the main control panel, each glowing neon blue against the black backdrop. A low humming sound broke the silence as the main system started up, and after a few seconds, a three-dimensional holographic display appeared above the desktop panel.

The word ATLAS briefly flashed across the screen before two columns on the left-hand side appeared, one titled 'Category' and the other 'Date.' Harry cautiously reached out and touched the 'Category' column. His fingers received a painless static shock in response, before a long, alphabetized list materialized on the display. Harry scrolled through the list, again feeling the odd tactile response from the system, until he found what he was looking for. He pressed 'Newspaper' and a second listing appeared over the first. As he scrolled through, he held his breath.

And then, he stared in shock at the words he thought he'd never see again. There, highlighted in neon blue, was 'The Daily Prophet.'

Harry took a deep breath and pressed the selection. The station emitted a low humming sound as it began to access the files before the entire screen went black. Two lines of bright red text appeared in the center of the display:

**Access Denied:**

**Omega Level Security Clearance Required**

Harry stared at the screen, reading the words over and over again. "Omega…Omega…wasn't that –" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver key-card that Mengsk had given him. In the bottom right corner was the small horseshoe engraving he had felt earlier. _Perhaps it can help you more fully explore the area_.

"Son of a bitch…"

Harry dropped his head and glanced around the control panel. Sure enough, on the left hand side, just underneath the desktop, was a key-reader. He fed the card in and the black screen was almost instantly replaced by a flooding of newspaper headlines. On the left, the 'Date' column pulsed violently. Harry scrolled through and selected a starting point – the day he had left Earth.

August 19th, 2004

**Gringotts Strike Over, Goblins to Return**

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He remembered that debacle like it was yesterday. Of course, it wasn't funny at the time, but in comparison to his current troubles it now seemed particularly absurd. He touched the screen again and continued to scroll down. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

August 22nd, 2004

**The Chosen One, Gone?**

The wizarding world is in a state of uproar as the news of Harry Potter's (the Boy-Who-Lived, and Vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) disappearance has spread like fiendfyre. The ministry has been very quiet with any information regarding his whereabouts, and they have yet to make an official statement. Many believe the Chosen One to have simply taken a well-deserved retreat from the social spotlight, but in the opinion of this reporter, something more sinister appears to be afoot. Perhaps –

Harry had read enough. He placed his hand on the hologram and continued to scroll through the listings. The rest of the highlights were pretty standard: "The Search Continues," with the occasional "For Opinions on Why Harry Potter has Fled the Country – see Page X." There were also some strange headlines on the economic failings of the muggle world, but Harry didn't pay them much attention. He was looking for something in particular.

November 8th, 2004

**Search Called Off, Wizarding World in Mourning**

It has been almost three months since the shocking disappearance of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Vanquisher of the Dark Lord. In a brief press conference yesterday, the Minister of Magic, Jonathan Parnell, declared that the search for the savior of the wizarding world would be called off due to an… Long time friends of Potter's, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, made statements yesterday expressing their disgust with the ministry's decision to call off the search after only three month's time…

Harry couldn't read anymore. In his arrogance he had taken the portal - he had dealt with magic that he never fully understood because he had needed the distraction. His adventures had been his escape from reality. He had never stopped to think about the people he was leaving behind.

Harry scowled and continued to scroll through the headlines.

November 10th, 2004

**Potential Lead on Potter Disappearance**

Just two days after publicly announcing the termination of the search for Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, the ministry of magic has disclosed that they may actually have a lead. While specific information surrounding the investigation has not been released, it is known that the Ministry of Magic is currently working in a joint venture with the United States Magical Bureaucracy (U.S.M.B) to follow up…

November 25th, 2004

**Gateway to Potter?**

In a press conference this morning, Ministry officials confirmed widely circulating rumors that they are working to open what they believe to be some sort of gateway…Hermione Granger, long time friend of the Chosen One, believes that Potter was making repeated visits to the mysterious natural formation of Devil's Kettle Falls, located in Minnesota, prior to his disappearance…On arriving at the site, ministry workers found heavy traces of magical residue…Minister of Magic, Jonathan Parnell, has already been given the go ahead to create a magical system to unlock the gateway at the Falls…

December 2nd, 2004

**Tragedy at Devil's Kettle Falls**

At approximately 9:28 last night, a joint team of American and British wizards was successful in opening the now famous gateway at Devil's Kettle Falls. Unfortunately, the night was not the jubilant occasion it was supposed to be. Amidst the stunning display of magic unleashed by the Falls, the five members of the team and many spectators, all hoping to see the return of Harry Potter, were injured or killed by what some witnesses have described as disillusioned aliens. Almost immediately, aurors were dispatched to the scene where they were able to eliminate the threat. No official word has been released by the Ministry concerning…

December 9th, 2004

**Major Cities Destroyed Worldwide**

In the wake of the unexplained tragedy at Devil's Kettle Falls, major cities all over the globe have fallen victim to vicious lightning storms, officials announced this morning. The Ministry has confirmed that the storms are the result of extremely potent magic, but the source has, as of yet, remained elusive. Many are fearful of a link between… Muggle officials are at a loss to explain these seemingly systematic attacks on major cities and enterprises globally…While magical-muggle relations at the upper echelons of government continue to deteriorate…Mass hysteria…rioting…Martial law has been implemented around the globe…

December 11th, 2004

**In the Eye?**

In a press conference earlier this morning, Ministry officials announced that the deadly storms, which have wreaked havoc on much of the muggle and magical world, have finally been contained. The source was confirmed to have been the unstable gateway opened at Devil's Kettle Falls…all rumors surrounding an alien presence were fervently denied, including the supposed capture of one such creature… The world has been thrown into chaos and the ever-frail relations between the leaders of the magical and muggle worlds have become strained to the breaking point. The scope of the destruction falls beyond the abilities of total magical cleanup, and for the first time, muggle leaders are tasked with the burden of producing a viable explanation…

Harry gripped the platform tightly. He was skimming through headlines now out of a combination of anxiety and impending dread. But, ever so slowly, things seemed to get… better.

December 23rd, 2004

**Hope for a Better Future?**

Though magical-muggle relations continue to decline, independently, both worlds have been forced to come together in order to quell the international pandemonium that has threatened to destroy our ways of life. Across the wizarding world, magical nations from all areas of the globe have come together in a joint venture to clean up the destruction left in the wake of the disaster…Muggle governments have founded the United Powers League; an organization intended to carry out the vision of a unified humanity held by the now defunct United Nations. Perhaps, out of this immense tragedy we may look forward to a better future…

Harry couldn't help but relax slightly as he continued to skim the headlines. But all too quickly, things began to take a turn for the worse.

January 12th, 2005

**Strange Illness Sweeps Nation, Passes**

A strange illness struck magical communities worldwide yesterday…Odd symptoms ranged from magical and physical weakness to paranoia and delusional thoughts… Healers remain extremely perplexed…though the bug seems to have passed as quickly as it came…Muggles, as of yet, appear to have been unaffected…

June 22nd, 2005

**Disease Rampant, Death Toll on the Rise**

The "Walking Shadow" disease continues to run rampant in magical communities worldwide…healers and governments alike remain baffled by its origin and are at a loss to come up with a cure…The disease, which many experts believe to be the same illness that struck magical nations in January, appears to remain dormant for extended periods of time before drastically reducing magical potency and weakening physical capabilities… While the death toll continues to rise, the magical world looks to the UPL for help…

July 2nd, 2005

**UPL Turns Back on Wizarding World**

In a press conference yesterday, the Ministry of Magic confirmed that the UPL has refused to lend support to the magical world, citing recent wizarding attacks on major cities as their reasoning…These attacks, the work of multiple underground wizarding organizations, have been publicly denounced by all major magical nations… The underground organizations are led by those who believe the "Walking Shadow" to be a muggle conspiracy to destroy the wizarding world…The UPL has mobilized forces in response to these terrorist acts…while the wizarding death toll reaches an all-time-high…

And then there were no more headlines.

Harry stared at the screen in disbelief. All those people. Everyone, murdered. Slow tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and he made no effort to wipe them away. He shakily rose from his seat before throwing up and falling to his knees.

* * *

Harry was running. The cool air of the hallway nipped at his exposed skin and dried the streaks of tears that ran the length of his face. His cloak, billowing out behind him, tugged at his back like an anchor – a feeble attempt at restraint where his emotions would yield none. And yet, all he knew were the footsteps beneath him, and the blinding rage within him.

That is, until a massive doorway loomed up out of the dimly lit hallway. The large silver frame stood out against the monotonous tan walls of the rest of the ship. Harry paused for a moment in front of the door, before raising his hand and rapping the frame with three heavy beats of his fist. Without a response from inside, the silver door slid open, granting Harry his first look at Mengsk's quarters.

Whereas the rest of the ship was strictly functional in design, with sharp military decor and eerily barren passageways, the Commander's quarters were something else entirely. Besides the Observation Deck, Harry had seen maybe two other windows throughout the entire ship. This room had them in spades. And not just any windows. These were huge panes of glass, held within arched frames, like those you would find in a Gothic cathedral, just without the staining. Space, in all its majesty, was visible on each side of the hexagonal room, encasing the people within like a real-world planetarium. Overhead, the ceiling was illogically high for a spacecraft and majestic in design. Ribbed vaulting spanned the entire expanse before transferring its weight to supporting pillars interspersed between the panels of glass. And to complete the picture, an ancient looking organ rested in the corner of the room, each of its bronze pipes running to a different height along the wall.

Harry was so awe-struck by the sight that his anger became something of a memory. It was a long moment before he even noticed Mengsk and Lieutenant Rimes sitting around a table at the far end of the room. Both were staring at him intently.

"Ah, Harry, I wasn't expecting you until later," Mengsk said casually, while cocking his head slightly to the side. Rimes just followed Harry's movements in silence, watching for any signs of aggression.

It was like he had been doused with ice water. Mengsk's words broke Harry out of his reverie, snapping him back to reality. And as he locked eyes with the older man, Harry felt his mental restraints simply collapse under the strain of the past few days. Everything that had happened since his journey through Devil's Kettle weighed heavily on his mind, but the knowledge of his inadvertent role in the downfall of the wizarding world had utterly defeated him. Harry's anger returned to him in full force, officially drowning out all reason.

His change in demeanor must have been readily apparent. Almost as quickly as Harry drew his wand, Rimes had jerked his pistol from its holder and leveled it at Harry. A deafening silence filled the room. And neither man backed down until Mengsk rose from his seat and held his hand out in front of Rimes in a calming gesture. The heavily scarred man looked between Harry and Mengsk for a moment before reluctantly sitting back down.

"That's very good Mengsk. Can you make him roll over too? How about…_play dead_?" Harry's eyes never left Rimes' gaze and he finished with a victorious smirk that sent the scarred man over the edge.

The Lieutenant was up in a flash, all pretenses of military discipline abandoned like leaves to the wind. Harry let him close the distance between them until their faces were merely inches apart. He could feel the barrel of Rimes' pistol pressed firmly against his chest and he could smell the tobacco on the man's breath. But his wand remained limply at his side. A few words had already passed through his mind and his body glowed slightly under the effects of the magic.

"Don't think for one second that your abilities make you above the military code," Rimes whispered fiercely. "You're nothing, you hear me? Nothing. If you ever disrespect me again, I'll shoot you dead you piece of shit."

Harry just laughed. "Try it and I promise there won't be enough of you left to ID, you st –"

"Enough!" Mengsk bellowed angrily. He was standing now and his towering form seemed to place even more power behind his words. "Lieutenant, leave us. Now." Rimes looked furious at these orders, clearly feeling betrayed, but he followed them all the same. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

"Sit," Mengsk eventually said softly. He gestured to a chair across from his own.

But Harry still vibrated with anger. "Fuck off," he spat back, while keeping his wand leveled at the man.

Mengsk merely sighed in exasperation. "They're dead, Harry. And you are alive. Nothing will change that no –"

"Because you fucking poisoned them!" Harry shouted as he jabbed his wand at Mengsk menacingly. The man simply leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed by the threatening gesture.

"You anger is sorely misplaced," he replied calmly.

"Oh? And who is more deserving?" Harry glared at Mengsk, almost daring him to say "yourself." His own guilt was burning deep within him, setting his heart ablaze.

"Sit, Harry," Mengsk repeated once again. And this time, there was no question that it was a command. "Sit, and let us talk."

Harry sized-up Mengsk and took a deep breath. The man was calm, too calm. Harry needed someone like Rimes, someone he could rile up – someone that could fuel his anger. Mengsk simply refused to give him what he wanted, refused to give him a fight, and because of that, his anger began to fade once more. Harry moved across the room and sat down at the table. After a moment's hesitation, he stowed his wand.

"I must admit. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Mengsk repeated from earlier, as if the past ten minutes had never happened.

Harry scoffed. "Yea, you were really subtle." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key-card. Its silver hue shimmered under the starlight. He briefly held it up before tossing it onto the table in front of Mengsk. The older man simply smiled in reply.

"So why didn't you just tell me?" Harry continued as soon as he realized that Mengsk wasn't going to say anymore. "Why all the theatrics?"

At this, Mengsk stood up and began to walk around his quarters. He kept his back turned to Harry and his head focused on the stars and planets that seemed to make up the walls of the room. "I needed you too see for yourself. You would not have truly believed it otherwise." He paused here as he rested a hand against the window in front of him. "I needed you to see the price we will pay should we fail now, Harry."

"I don't understand…"

"The UPL destroyed the wizarding world all those years ago because they were too much of a threat…too much of a danger to the continued survival of the human race. The idea was by no means new – the destruction caused by the aliens simply jump-started the project. Wizards and witches were just the first of many human anomalies to be purged during the Purification Project."

"How does this have anything to do with now – with me?" Harry questioned slowly. He didn't see where he fit into the equation yet, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"Much like the UPL back on Earth, the Confederacy here has become increasingly corrupt and violent. Our efforts at reforming the government have ended in massive bloodshed. Just months ago, the Confederacy launched thousands of nuclear missiles at Khoral, hoping to wipe out our revolutionary movement in one quick strike. They killed millions of innocent people in the attack - we are all that's left… They must be stopped, Harry – for the good of our world, they must be stopped."

As the implications of Mengsk's word began to sink in, Harry stared at the man in blatant shock. "Wait, so let me get this straight. You formed a rebel movement to destroy the Confederacy and now you're angry because they blew you up for trying to kill them? You're no better than they are. Hell, you're no better than the fucking UPL. Why would you ever think I would help you?"

Mengsk turned back to Harry and for a moment his eyes flashed dangerously. "You don't understand. You haven't lived under their rule…Those people on Khoral did not deserve to di –"

Harry stood up now, his eyes blazing as he spat back his response. "Oh, I think I understand perfectly well. You're all murderers. You committed genocide on the wizarding world and now you're killing each other. Good luck with that."

Harry turned on his heels and made for the door. But he paused just before the frame. Laughter was reverberating off the walls behind him.

"An interesting take on things from a man who's done his fair share of killing _for the greater good_."

Harry faced Mengsk once more and gave him a look of utter contempt. He raised his wand, but the act only elicited a wide grin from Mengsk. The older man threw up his hands in mock defeat.

"Okay. So you don't believe in our cause – fine. I said earlier that we may be able to help each other, and I am a man of my word, Harry."

"I'm listening," Harry replied coldly after a moments pause.

"Recent Intel has shown that the Confederacy is experimenting with aliens and alien-based technology." Harry's eyes widened and Mengsk grinned in return. "Yes, Harry, the same aliens that led to the destruction of the wizarding world. And likely the same technology that brought you here to our time. Help the Sons of Khoral dispose of a corrupt regime and not only will you get your chance at vengeance, but you may even get the chance to return to your own time – the chance to prevent these atrocities from ever occurring."

Harry eyed Mengsk wearily. "If I went back, none of this would ever happen. You wouldn't be Commander of a rebel movement. Your life would change completely…Why would you want that?"

Mengsk looked at Harry as if he were crazy. "You think I want this life? I'm just trying to salvage what's left of our humanity before it's too late. I would kill to be able to prevent this future – I _will_ kill to change it."

For the longest time, Harry stared at Mengsk, hoping to see through any deceits. He was a terrible legilimens, and with what little ability he had, he couldn't get anything out of the man. In the end, he knew he had no other real options.

"Fine, I'm in," he replied slowly. "But even the faintest sign of things turning sour and you're going to wish I had left now."

Mengsk seemed unconcerned by the threat and simply smiled. "Excellent. A toast to our future successes seems in order then."

"Sure," Harry mumbled distractedly as he sat back down. His guilt weighed heavily on his heart, but his spirit jumped at the possibility of taking it all back – the possibility of a second chance.

Mengsk placed two glass cups on the table and a few clinks rang out as he dropped several ice cubes into each. He got up and went to a cabinet in the corner of the room, where he fished out a bottle of Black Label. "Scotch – the drink of men, Harry." His eyes gleamed as he brought the bottle back and poured himself a hearty serving. But as he tipped the bottle to pour the second drink, Harry instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of the neck. Both men kept their hands on the bottle as they stared at each other.

"Really, Harry?" Mengsk finally said. "Have I not had ample opportunities to kill you already?"

Harry kept his hand firmly on the bottle, and eventually Mengsk relinquished his hold. "You can never be too careful with your life," Harry replied coolly.

"Certainly not."

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the bottle of scotch. The glass grew warm against his skin for a second before it began to pulse with a bright white aura. Harry stared at the bottle with an amused smile. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what to think of Mengsk at all. The man was a mystery.

Harry put away his wand and filled his glass instead. "Cheers, then," he said casually.

"Cheers," Mengsk repeated. His face showed no hint of annoyance at Harry's distrust.

Harry titled his head back and downed his serving in one go. He shook his head, feeling his eyes water slightly, before placing his glass back down on the table. In a quick move, he stood up and made his way for the door. Mengsk, who was still casually sipping his drink, noticed this and raised his hand for Harry to stop.

"I'm assigning you to Rimes' team - they're the best there is. You've been in battles before, so training is of little concern. You'll have three days to get adjusted to their formations and get acquainted with the team."

"Oh goody." And with that, Harry left Mengsk's quarters and began the long trek back to his own room.

When the silver door had slid closed, Mengsk chuckled to himself. He raised his glass and downed the rest of his drink.

The hardest part was over.

* * *

**A.N.** Well, there you go. Let me know what you guys think - even if it's just a "Nice" or a quick "Don't ever write again." I try to answer every question I get via review, so if you have one, let me know. And thanks to everyone who's taken the time to review so far - both here and on DLP. I greatly appreciate it.

Until next time.


	4. Conscious, Part II

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own anything.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 4: Conscious, Part II**

**

* * *

**

Harry yawned and flicked his wand casually. The air in front of him shimmered for a moment before displaying a digital readout of the time. It was 8:02. And that made Harry smile. He quickly glanced at himself in the mirror before taking half a step forward and disappearing into morning's waiting arms.

At nearly two hundred yards long and fifty yards wide, the training fields were truly something to behold. The front half of the space was merely just a series of military briefing stations cast in the background of a variety of athletic fields. Pretty standard stuff for any military operation. But the back half of the complex was anything but standard. Enclosed within a huge transparent dome, the area sported a multitude of intricately designed combat scenarios. Everything from aqueous assaults to breaching fortified strongholds could be simulated in a real-time, live-action environment. It was easily the most advanced training facility Harry had ever seen, barring none. Not even the magically composed training sites created during the second great wizarding war could compare. He really had to hand it to the muggles. What they lacked in natural ability, they more than made up for in preparation.

Harry strolled across the complex until he was just outside the domed combat zone. Before him, built into the ground like an old World War II bunker, was a singular briefing station. The silver door was lettered and the words "Lt. Rimes – Bravo Division" were painfully visible in vibrant orange. After a moment's hesitation, during which he seriously considered apparating back to bed, Harry stepped forward, triggering the door to slide open.

The small space was dreary to the point of depression. A cross-shaped chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling and sported a fake electric candle at each of its four corners. Three were broken, and the remaining singlet was struggling to beat back the darkness spurred on by the conspicuous lack of windows. With what little light the faux candle provided, Harry took in the patchwork of maps and schematics that littered the walls. Red ink was scrawled over much of the documents, but he could just make out the words "Fujita Facility" at the top of one of the blueprints.

Before he could look any further though, his attention was drawn to a long wooden table at the front of the room. Scattered around in low-seated chairs were the members of Rimes' unit, and all seven faces were turned toward Harry. Rimes, himself, sat at the head of the table, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"Ah, Potter –" he said as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was 0805. "-So glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence."

Harry flicked his wand, a move that made Rimes' hand twitch toward his holster, and a plush chair materialized in front of him. He glanced at the Lieutenant and shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say?" he said casually before sitting down. "I aim to please."

Rimes looked livid, his face contorting into a wicked snarl, but otherwise managed to remain calm. "Don't be late again," he said darkly. The words _"_or else_"_ were unnecessary.

Harry simply shrugged in reply, making no attempt to hide his amusement. The man was just too easy to rile up, and though Harry had decided to go along with Mengsk's deal, that by no means meant he was going to give Rimes an easy time.

He turned his attention back to Rimes' team and noticed an odd mixture of emotions written on their faces – anger, fear, curiosity, and even jealousy – it was all there on display. Harry slowly inclined his head in acknowledgment of their stares. "So, how 'bout we just forget that little desert incident ever happened. Sound good?"

"Sir, this is some kind of joke, right?" Crowley sputtered out, clearly flabbergasted by this unforeseen turn of events. "_This_ is our new member? Fucking hell, he tried to kill us on Moria!" The rest of the unit mumbled their agreement, emboldened now that someone had garnered the balls to speak out against the Lieutenant.

"Trust me," Harry began over the intensifying chorus of mutinous shouts. "If you're alive, then I didn't try to kill you."

Crowley clenched his fists and started to respond, but Tessa cut him off. "Lieutenant, we can't trust a psychic. He's obviously working for the Confe-"

"Enough!" Rimes barked out as he slammed his fist down on the table. The room fell silent. He stared down each member of his team before his eyes eventually fell upon Tessa's, where they lingered. "Corporal, I wasn't under the impression you were authorized to make that kind of assessment? – Quite bold, especially after such an unseemly fuckup on Moria…"

Rimes trailed off for emphasis and Tessa shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Of course, sir. I forget my place," she replied before shooting Harry a furious glance.

"Good, now listen up – all of you. Commander Mengsk has assigned Potter, here, to our unit as a Special Operative. While I don't like it any more than you do –" Rimes paused for a moment as he stared with open contempt at Harry "- it is what it is. So, you _will_ deal with it, or you _will_ deal with me. Understood?"

"Hooah!" the team replied in unison.

"Now get your sorry asses out to the fields," Rimes bellowed. "We're running the Gauntlet today."

* * *

Harry trailed a ways behind the others as they entered the domed training area. From the way they were giving him the cold shoulder, he got the distinct feeling that new team members were an unwelcome addition. And he was sure his previous encounter with Rimes' unit had done nothing to help his cause. But in the end, it didn't really bother him. After all, he wasn't there to make friends. He had his half of the bargain to hold up, and then he was going back home to set things right.

He could take care of himself in the meantime.

So, he was more than a little surprised when one of his supposed teammates lingered at the back of the group.

"You're a psychic, huh?" Hung said, as he fell into step with Harry. "How'd ya do that thing with the chair?"

Harry just glared in response. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment, and to his credit, Hung seemed to catch on quickly.

"Oh, right…personal stuff. Gotcha…" Hung said as he cast his eyes downward. His shoulders slumped slightly and he started to walk back toward the rest of the group.

"Ah, fuck," Harry mumbled under his breath. "Hey, hold up there," he called out to Hung's retreating back. "Wait up."

Harry jogged a few paces and caught up to the kid. "I don't know."

"Huh?"

"I don't really know how I do it. I just visualize what I need… and I can usually make it happen." Harry shrugged. At least it wasn't a complete lie.

"Whoa, is that normal for a psychic?"

"Not sure," Harry answered honestly. "I didn't really grow up around here. Never met one."

"Yeah, same with me… So Crowley was right. You're from one of the fringe worlds, after all. Well, we fringe-worlders have to stick together." Hung stopped walking and reached out an uncertain hand. "I'm…ah… I'm Somo Hung."

Harry hoped he wasn't going to kick himself for this later. He extended his arm and met the kid's grip with his own. "Harry Potter."

Hung wore a stupid grin as they shook hands. He seemed to stand taller in that moment – his head held perhaps just a bit higher than before, his shoulders pushed back to match. "Well, Harry, you ready for the Gauntlet?"

"Ah, considering I have no idea what it is? Sure, why no-"

"Potter!" Rimes shouted from the front of the group. It was only then that Harry realized they had stopped moving. Before them, standing three stories tall, was some type of multi-tiered obstacle course. "Potter, _please_ shut the fuck up so I can explain the training exercise."

Harry gave Hung an annoyed glance before diverting his attention back to Rimes.

Mollified, the Lieutenant continued, "It's a simple extraction procedure today, boys and _girls_ –" Rimes made it a point to sneer here for emphasis, "- Your Package is stationed at a random spot within the Gauntlet. Once you've located it, you're to bring it to the EVAC position undamaged. Tessa will take point – Crowley will be SIC. Now get your shit together and get to work!"

As some of the others spoke with Rimes, Hung nudged Harry and pointed toward a table about a meter away. "Each person's got their own set," he explained, before counting the items off on his fingers. "You get everything you could ever need – a bulletproof vest, plated helmet, utility belt, Arkanite rifle – well, you might get a flak pistol - grenades, harnesses, tactical knives, and… and you're walking away right now… Cool."

Harry approached the equipment table just as Tessa had finished slipping on her utility belt. She looked up and for a fraction of a second their eyes met. "Far corner, Potter," she said dismissively while jamming a clip into her rifle with a bit more force than necessary. Harry gave her one last look before walking over to a pile of equipment sitting at the end of the row.

There, written across the back of the vest, was his surname: POTTER. For a moment, Harry allowed a small smile to spread across his face. He fingered the letters thoughtfully before strapping the flak jacket to his chest and swinging the utility belt around his hips. Both were light and flexible and Harry was happy to find that neither impeded his movements in any way.

Satisfied with his equipment, he grabbed his helmet and made his way back to where the others were assembling. As he approached the group, a buzz of excitement met his ears. He caught a glimpse of Rimes kneeling on the pavement and watched as the Lieutenant gripped a large, metallic handle protruding from the ground. Rimes tightened his grip as he stood and a cylindrical console rose with him. He typed as series of numeric key-codes into the LCD display before it flashed a violent green and sank back into the ground.

There was dead silence as the Gauntlet shuddered to life. Floors and ceilings collapsed inward to form winding staircases and shielded walkways. Towers rose out of the massive metalwork and narrow corridors formed the outer layers of the complex. The metamorphosis was incredible to watch and Harry stood on edge, both anxious and eager to get his hands dirty.

Eventually, the grinding of gears ceased and the last few pieces of the Gauntlet came together. The completed structure rose four stories above the pavement and seemed to house enough corridors and dead ends to make even the air seem trapped within.

Rimes whispered a few words to Tessa before turning abruptly and heading toward the observatory. Tessa clenched her fists. For a moment she simply stared at her boots as if they were the most interesting things in the world. And then her head snapped up, eyes cool and focused. She quickly glanced at each member of her unit before reciting her orders. There was a sharp edge to her words.

"Durchik, Smith, and Hung with me – We'll make our way around the left bend. Bison and Potter with Crowley – Take the right-hand hallway. Only Shocker rounds are acceptable, and keep your Coms on at all times. Now let's do this!"

"Hooah!" the team shouted. Tessa slipped away and into the Gauntlet, her team following close on her heels.

Not to be outdone, Crowley surged forward and into the complex. In his wake, Harry locked eyes with the man named Bison, who sported long back hair, wide shoulders, and an amused grin.

"Well, I guess that's our cue, eh?"

Harry nodded. They both flicked on their ComLinks and followed Crowley's lead into the darkness.

* * *

After several minutes of navigating the pitch-black hallway they found Crowley waiting for them at the first bend.

"What do ya think, Cro –" Bison began, before Crowley threw his hand over the man's mouth. With his other hand, he slowly pressed his index finger to his own lips.

Bison nodded and Crowley slowly released him. He then walked over to Harry and pointed at him threateningly.

"Stay out of our way, fringe-worlder," he whispered. Just over Crowley's shoulder, Bison gave Harry an apologetic shrug.

"Get your finger out of my face," Harry replied, unconcerned with keeping his voice down. "Now."

Crowley took in Harry's demeanor and smiled cheekily. He dropped his hands to Harry's vest and slowly adjusted the straps. As he did, he stepped closer.

"Don't worry kid, you'll learn soon enough who runs this show."

And before Harry could respond, Crowley had pulled a flashbang off his belt and launched it down the next bend. There was a brief moment during which the only noise to be heard was the patter of feet desperately trying to avoid the blast. And then, an explosion of blinding light burst out of the adjacent hallway. It was followed almost immediately by a deafening sound that shook the very foundations of the Gauntlet.

Quickly, both Crowley and Bison drew glow-sticks from their pockets and snapped them. Neon green light lit up the dark hallway before the sticks were also tossed around the bend.

And with one last glare in Harry's direction, Crowley signaled Bison to follow him. Rifles held high, the two men walked around the corner and into the light.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Wow, you guys are cool."

* * *

The chatter of gunfire echoed across the raised walkway. Tessa kept her back flat against the adjacent wall and snuck a peak around the corner. There were four men on the platform, each under cover and heavily armed.

She glanced back at her team and grimaced. Shocker rounds had stunned both Durchik and Smith – they'd be knocked out long after this exercise was over - and that left her with…Hung. Again, she grimaced.

"Hung! Get over here!" Tessa shouted over the peal of gunfire.

"Corporal?"

"How many flashbangs do you have left?" she asked while sticking her gun around the corner and firing off a few rounds blind.

Hung checked his belt. "Ah, four…but the pins are all jammed!" A few more bursts of gunfire focused on their position, but these weren't coming from the walkway. They were coming from the stairwell behind them.

"Just give me the damn belt!" Tessa shouted out, realizing they were about to be flanked on both sides. Hung gripped the cord but fumbled with the clasp. As his fingers raced nervously over the metal binding, Tessa reached behind her and ripped the belt from his waist.

Steadying herself, she twirled the belt over her head and whipped it around the corner in one fluid motion. It flew across the walkway before the strap got caught on one of the metal railings.

"Cover me!" she shouted to Hung, and the young kid dropped to a knee and opened fire around the corner.

Using her opening, Tessa planted herself on the floor and flipped open her scope. She steadied her rifle, being sure to take careful aim at one of the flashbangs attached to Hung's belt loops. Slowly, she breathed out and tightened her grip around the trigger.

"Let's hope this works," she muttered under her breath.

* * *

A massive explosion rocked the southeast side of the Gauntlet, the shockwaves of which knocked Harry and Bison clean off their feet. The metal supports of the structure vibrated intensely, threatening to cave in. But after a moment, everything seemed to settle.

"What the fuck was that?" Bison asked as he slowly stood back up. He reached his hand down and helped Harry back onto his feet.

"No idea, I'll try and get Tessa on the Com."

Bison nodded. He leaned against the wall of the corridor and lit a cigarette. "And where the fuck did Crowley run off to?"

Harry shrugged and changed the frequency on his ComLink. He could only hope that Crowley had fallen and accidentally stabbed himself in the heart.

"Tessa?" Harry muttered halfheartedly into the Com. "Tessa?"

Static.

"Oh well, I tried."

Bison blew smoke out his nose and laughed. "You're really enjoying this aren't you, Potter?"

"About as much as I would enjoy getting shot," Harry said matter-of-factly before pointing at his crotch. "In the dick."

Bison, who had just taken a deep drag of his cigarette, choked on it. Harry smirked. Then he ripped the ComLink off his belt and tossed it into the corner.

"What - are you - doing?" Bison spat out in between coughing fits. "Crowley told us – to stay put."

"All we have to do is find this "Package" and get out, right?"

"What? Yeah, but –"

"Then we've wasted a shit load of time doing nothing," Harry replied as he raised his wand. "Stay here and wait for Crowley. I'm gonna go end this stupid exercise."

Harry flicked his wrist and his ComLink exploded in shower of sparks and screws. Bison smacked his head against his palm.

"And the point of that was….?"

"To make myself feel better," Harry deadpanned. "See you on the flip side, Bison."

"You can't just - wait! Tessa and Crowley are gonna be _pissed_!" Bison shouted after Harry.

"Fuck 'em," was the only reply as Harry disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

Bison shook his head in both amusement and frustration. He slid down the wall and lit another cigarette.

But almost as soon as he had, gunfire sounded through the ComLink at his waist. A few indiscernible shouts broke out in the background and then Tessa's voice blared over the noise.

"We're pinned down! Can you guys get to us?"

* * *

It took Harry five minutes to realize that wandering aimlessly through the Gauntlet was a terrible idea. As he emerged into a new, yet depressingly similar corridor, he stopped and leaned against the nearest wall. He considered blasting through the facility, but figured that wasn't his best idea either.

Instead, he settled on using an occlumency technique he had developed back on Earth during the war against Voldemort. If he was truly honest with himself, he might even admit that Tom's horcruxes had been his inspiration for the process, but the thought never sat well with his conscience. Still, as with soul splitting, splitting one's awareness was equal parts of dangerous and reckless.

Harry walked to each end of the corridor and burned a series of trip wards into the dark walls. Then, satisfied that he would have fair warning in case of an attack, he sat down on the cold floor and began to recite his mantra.

"I am Harry Potter. I am myself and no other."

Surrounded by these words of power, Harry closed his eyes and dove into his own mind.

Navigating through his personal mindscape, he rounded up a series of memories that could serve as a skeleton for his unique identity. Jumbled images of the cupboard under the stairs, his parents, his friends, the prophecy, and Voldemort swam through his head. As they gained momentum, they pushed the other superfluous memories, the flesh of Harry's identity, to the corners of his mind.

Then, ever so gently, Harry formed and constricted a mental shield around the isolated memories, coalescing them into a single sphere of consciousness.

"_Menscindo_," he intoned. The words formed within his mind, surrounding the sphere and splitting it into seven equal partitions.

A blinding blue light forced Harry's eyes open and he watched as seven shades of himself stepped away from his corporeal body. Focusing on maintaining a mental link to each one, he commanded the shades through the Gauntlet where they eventually split off onto different paths.

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. Only a few minutes after branching off, one of his shades stumbled across a heavily guarded area toward the middle of the complex. At the center of the circular room, lying prone on a table, was a female mannequin.

Harry had to stifle a laugh. The guards seemed as bored as he was.

Noting the position of the mannequin, he recalled his shades. And as the last one merged with his body, the barriers within his mind faded. He stood up and dusted himself off.

Then he brandished his wand. A faint crack resounded off the walls and he reappeared a few feet from the mannequin. The soldiers guarding the area barely had time to turn and shout before Harry grabbed the life-sized doll and disappeared.

This time he materialized next to Rimes in the observatory. The heavily scarred man barely flinched as he took in Harry's presence.

"Here," Harry said lazily as he shoved the mannequin into the Lieutenant's arms. A split second later and he was gone.

* * *

Harry made a small downward flourish with his hand. The carving tool cut into the wall of his room with ease and the last rune began to take shape. He wove through the vision symbol, perfecting its form, but almost faltered when three loud knocks resounded from his door.

"Busy," Harry called out. "Really, really busy." He turned back around and placed the chisel against the face of the wall once more. But three more knocks forced him to his feet.

"Damn, that never seems to work," he muttered under his breath as he made his way to the door. A flick of his wrist and it slid open.

"You?"

"Me," came the quick response before a fist flew up and struck Harry in the face. As he stumbled backwards, Tessa walked past him and into the room. She was sporting a serious black eye and her hair was matted with some kind of gel.

Harry schooled his features. He touched his tongue to the corner of his lip and tasted blood.

"Don't ever fucking do that again," Tessa said fiercely. Her dark eyes seemed to flash crimson. "You're on my team, and you'll follow the orders given to you, dammit!"

Harry spat blood out of the corner of his mouth. And against his better judgment he fought back. "Your team? Or Crowley's?" Tessa's eyes widened for a moment and Harry pressed his advantage. "Don't think I didn't notice your little interactions with Rimes earlier. You're no longer his favorite super soldier, are you?"

"That has nothing to do with this," Tessa countered, though her words seemed to have lost a bit of their bite. "You were given orders and you blatantly ignored them."

"Doesn't it, though?" Harry continued. "Who are you really angry with here – me for disobeying a single order and winning the training exercise because of it, or Rimes for dropping you down a peg on the leader board?"

For a moment, it looked like Tessa might explode. And then all of a sudden, her shoulders dropped and she took a deep breath.

"Listen closely, Potter. I couldn't give two shits about who Rimes designates as squad leader. All I care about is the what's best for the team. We've been through hell and back together and I swear to you now - if you ever get someone killed out in the field because of a arrogant stunt like the one you pulled today – I'll kill you myself."

And with that, Tessa turned on her heels and walked out.

Harry stood there for a moment, digesting her words, before he sat back down and picked up his carving tools.

* * *

The announcement had come through the wire only minutes before, but the cruiser was already bustling with activity. Officers and soldiers alike stormed the halls, pushing forward toward the front of the ship with a fervor rarely seen off the battlefield. Their eagerness – the excitement permeating through the ship – it was all almost palpable on the air. After all, there was no denying the meaning of the intercom's message: In a few days, they would see battle.

And it was this that spurred Harry onward through the halls. The last few days had seen his mind under siege. He felt torn by Tessa's departing words, though the reason alluded him. Perhaps it was the guilt he still carried over what happened to the wizarding world, or the fact that he had once felt the same way about friends of his own. But for whatever reason, the ship had become a deathtrap for his brain and he needed to see some real action – if only to keep his eyes focused on the present, instead of lingering on the past.

Harry pushed past a couple more soldiers before he realized he was getting nowhere. He ditched the hallway and ducked into an empty side corridor. From his pocket, he drew his wand and lightly rapped it against his head. The familiar feeling of the disillusionment spell broke over him in waves, sending chills down his spine. Harry held up his hands to confirm the spells effectiveness. Pleased, he disappeared on the spot.

The Observation Deck was hardly any better than the hallway. Harry reappeared toward the front of the room and was immediately stung with the unintelligent buzz of a hundred different conversations. Tobacco smoke assaulted his senses. Mengsk was only a few meters away, sitting behind a circular table composed of other high-ranking officers. Rimes sat to his left and the two seemed to be locked in a heated argument. To Harry's amusement, he could just make out his own name on Rime's lips.

With a smirk, he turned his attention back toward the rest of the room, scanning actively for an open chair. What limited seating that was available was going fast, but Harry spotted an open chair along the back wall and immediately twisted his wand. A simple notice-me-not charm later and he had secured himself a seat.

Harry expertly avoided the masses of officers and eventually made it to his seat. As soon as he did, the banter in the room died down to a low murmur. The officers who had yet to find seats stood attentively against the back wall. A single cough rang out from the front of the room.

Mengsk stood before his assembled rebels, legs concealed by a thin wooden podium. He extended a firm hand forward and his fingers grazed a holographic display unit. In front of him, a three-dimensional blueprint of a circular building materialized.

"Fujita Facility," he began and the words brought dead silence to the room. "The gem of the Confederate research stations."

Mengsk swished his hand over the hologram and the image morphed into that of a small red planet. "Recent Intel has confirmed the facilities location on the planet Vyctor 5, just a mere day's travel from Umoja. In two day's time we will make our move on the facility. And in return for rescuing an Umojan scientist held hostage there, the Umojan ruling council has offered us amnesty and extended shelter."

The room broke out in excited murmurs, before Mengsk held up his hands for silence.

"However, it will not be easy." He touched the hologram again and an enormous swirling cloud, almost like a hurricane, appeared.

"The facility, itself, is located at the center of the Fujita Pinnacle, a twenty-league tall, four-league wide stationary vortex located on the surface of the planet. The Pinnacle makes an all out attack on the facility impossible - the interior of the vortex being stable enough for only a single craft. Additionally, anything bigger than a single dropship will be picked up on radar and shot down by a series of missile turrets stationed on top of the facility."

Again, whispers broke out among the assembled officers, and this time, Harry couldn't blame them. The mission already sounded like suicide.

Mengsk remained unfazed. He smiled calmly and continued.

"Rimes' Bravo Division will be our strike team on the ground. They will take a dropship - loaded with a single siege tank - to the surface where they will eliminate the missile turrets. With the facility's aerial defenses down, Alpha Division will provide Wraith support to dismantle the heavier, ground-based artillery – leaving Bravo Division to clean up."

"Once inside, our objectives are simple -"

Mengsk waved his hand over the hologram once more and three pictures appeared. The first was of an old, gray-haired scientist with a sharp nose and deep-set eyes. The second was of a young boy, no older than eighteen, with raven black hair and a sharp chin. And the last was of a young woman with flowing red hair and cream-colored skin.

"- the search and seizure of Dr. Flanx, Calder Darston, and Sarah Kerrigan."

Here Mengsk paused before taking a deep breath. "Now," he began before chuckling to himself. "I don't suppose there are any questions?"

Thirty hands shot up immediately.

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"...and he shall bring death in a glory of lights..." he whispered.

* * *

**A.N.** Well, sorry for the stupidly long wait in between updates. Originally, this section was only going to be two parts, but I've decided to split it up into three in order to get something posted for you guys. Once the summer gets started, I'll be cranking out these chapters, but until then - let me know what you think.


	5. Conscious, Part III

**Disclaimer:** None of this is mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 5: Conscious, Part III**

**

* * *

**

Harry pulled water past his shoulders. He broke the surface, air hitting his lungs like a sledgehammer. The cool, salty spray of the ocean buffeted his face as he took in a few deep, sharp breaths – all the while, fighting to keep his head afloat above the waves.

Despite everything, he felt no fear here. This was the beginning. This was renewal, innocence, the fleeting psyche…

Harry narrowed his eyes, stretching the limits of his vision. But in the distance, there was only ocean. He was surrounded on all sides by the infinite and in that moment he knew only two things for certain.

He would die here and he was unafraid.

And then, as if spurred into action by these thoughts, a rocky peak rose in the distance. It pierced through the murky horizon, spiraling toward the clouds above. Harry mustered his strength and swam. It wasn't long before he pulled himself ashore.

The sand felt warm beneath his feat. He squished it between his toes as he shielded his eyes from the best of the sun's rays. Looking up, he took in the scope of the beach. There were a few sparsely plotted palm trees, but that appeared to be the most of it. The place was beautiful despite its emptiness, like a paradise that had never quite come to fruition.

But Harry felt fear here. It covered the island like a tarp, suffocating it.

He felt it like a presence. It settled on his shoulders, digging his feet deeper into the sand. He shuddered and closed his eyes, counting backwards from ten.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, -"

And that's when he saw them. A man and a woman reclining side by side. Their matching lawn chairs stood out against the barren landscape of the beach.

The man was sporting a white business suit and a sharp black tie. He was lean, but well structured. And though his face was shrouded by the shade of a nearby palm, Harry could tell there was something familiar in the way he carried himself.

In the man's left hand lay the hand of his companion. She wore a blue dress that flowed casually along her figure, fanning out every now and then under the will of the breeze. As Harry drew closer, she raised her hand and adjusted the straw hat that covered her face, allowing her eyes to peak out from beneath the brim.

Hermione grinned as she took in Harry's figure.

It was only then, frozen in disbelief, that Harry noticed his own nakedness. A deep blush struck his cheeks and he quickly used his hands to shield his better half.

The lounging man laughed in reply. It was a laugh that Harry would have recognized anywhere, for it had haunted his dreams for far too long now.

"Ron?"

The man laughed once more and stood up, bringing his face out of the shadows. Ron stood almost six feet in height, his fiery red hair reaching down past his shoulders. And although Hermione didn't join him on her feet, their hands never left each other's grasp.

Lost in a torrent of emotions, Harry made to run forward. He wished to embrace his friends, to catch up on all that had seemed so lost.

But he was stuck, knee-deep in the sand.

There was death here. This was the ending, the beginning.

Then everything changed before his eyes. The beach disappeared as quickly as it had come. The blue skies turned to white walls, the warm sand to the cool, smooth flooring of an emergency room. The palm trees were gone too – replaced by mechanical towers and fast-beating monitors.

The placid scene had turned to chaos. Only the fear remained, pinning Harry deeper and deeper into the floor.

"Clear!"

The shout filled the air and was met with a chorus of "all clear." A split second later and a thousand volts raced through Hermione's limp body. Her back arched as she rose inches into the air, only to fall back to the bed, impossibly still once more.

The monitor flashed with brief signs of life, and then fell flat.

The doctor holding the paddles shook his head. "We should call it." The others nodded forming a wave of blue scrubs.

Ron clutched Hermione's hand and fell to his knees. He had not spoken a word; he didn't need to. His eyes told a tale all their own.

Harry tried to call out to him, tried to scream, but only his eyes remained above the floor. He blinked back tears as he stared at the line on the heart monitor.

And then he was back in the ocean, sinking below the horizon. The weight on his shoulders pinned his nose and mouth below the waves. Once again he was certain of only two things.

He would die here and he welcomed the escape.

As his eyes drifted below the waves, Harry thought that perhaps things might turn out okay after all.

Then he opened his eyes and screamed.

* * *

Harry ducked through the low-cut corridor and entered into the large expanse that made up the Hyperion's main hanger. A fleet of Wraiths rested against the nearest wall, surrounded by a group of SCVs making last minute patch-ups to their infrastructure. At the other end of the bay, a row of Arclite siege tanks sat at ease. Their thick metal plates and juggernaut cannons flashed dangerously under the paneled lights.

As he moved past the first embankment, Harry's eyes fell upon the contraption that would be transporting Bravo Division into the bowels of hell. The APOD dropship was a mechanical Frankenstein. Everything about it reeked of junkyard depravity, and Harry seriously doubted whether it could get them out of the hangar, let alone through a twenty-league tall vortex.

He narrowed his eyes, intent on giving the wings a closer inspection, when the dropship's cargo bay opened and Tessa emerged, clad in her battle gear.

Harry closed the distance between them and made his way up the ramp now extending from the rear of the module. Tessa stood at the top, casually leaning against the ship's hull. She kept her eyes focused on the ground.

"You're late."

"Got distracted," Harry replied absently. He paused, dream sequences consuming his thoughts. "Look, Tessa –"

"Save it, Potter. We could all be dead in the next two hours. Let's just forget about it." She looked up, her eyes reaching his for the first time. "Besides, if you apologize now and then bite the dust, you'll probably regret it."

Harry arched an eyebrow and a small smile crept onto Tessa's face. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was the first Harry had seen since he had arrived aboard the _Hyperion_.

"Wait – was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?" Tessa shrugged and Harry had to laugh at her attempt at nonchalance.

"You did, didn't you?" he continued. "Wow, don't worry, it gets easier after the first time."

"Oh, shut up and get inside already."

Harry grinned and followed Tessa through the dropship. They squeezed by the Arclite siege tank that occupied a large portion of the cargo space and eventually found their way into the main cabin.

The rest of the team was already strapped in, shoulder harnesses securing them flat against the thin leather backdrops of the hull. They all wore somber expressions on their faces and Harry couldn't help but wonder how many of them actually believed they would make it back alive.

Harry shook his head. He had his own reasons for joining up, but his teammates - they had blindly placed their faith in Mengsk - and for what? To seize three individuals, only one of which seemed to hold any real value for the rebellion? There was something they weren't being told, something important, and Harry had a feeling it revolved around the girl. Though he had no idea who she was, the way Mengsk had artfully dodged questions after the meeting told Harry one thing: her capture was personal.

Tessa took a seat at the end of the line and Harry slid into the one next to her. As he did, he casually glanced over his shoulder and looked at her, all but forgetting his concerns over the mission. He wasn't sure what had caused the change of heart, but he was happy she had lightened up a bit. And though he'd never admit it, it felt good to laugh and joke with her – especially after the dreams he'd been having.

"What?" Tessa asked, annoyed.

Harry shook himself from his thoughts. He had been staring unashamedly at Tessa for several minutes now.

"Uh...I was just checking for any signs of mental illness. You know, the serious, personality-changing kind."

"What the hell are you talking about now, Potter?" she said as she pulled the seat's harness over her shoulders. The drone of the dropship's engines was beginning to pick up now, making it difficult to hear. Harry leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Well, we're talking, whereas a few days ago you weren't exactly my biggest fan…"

Tessa's eyes darted to the other side of the cabin and Harry followed her gaze. Rimes was leaning back in his seat, his hand holding a receiver firmly against his ear.

"Let's just say that I wasn't having the best of days. And you're little stunt out at the fields just brought everything to a head." She paused, before turning back to Harry. He nodded. It wasn't an apology, but it was as much as either of them could expect. "I meant what I said, though. Ignoring orders gets people killed. Don't do it again."

Harry furrowed his brow. Over the past few days he had thought a lot about what Tessa had said. Although he didn't completely agree with her, he could at least understand where she was coming from. Back on earth, his auror unit had been his family. And if there was one thing he understood, it was the lengths people would go to protect the people they cared about. His dreams lately could attest to that.

"There's one thing I don't get," he said. "Isn't Rimes the one who put you in charge of the team to begin with?"

"No, Commander Mengsk did," Tessa explained. "But Rimes has had some unique success intercepting Confederate intelligence lately. I hate to admit it, but the Intel's been good. It's helped him slime his way into the Commander's good graces. He's been trying to sabotage my rank ever since."

"Oh common, sabotage? Really?"

Tessa narrowed her eyes. "He put Hung in charge of the last mission. Figured he could blame me when the kid screwed up."

Harry glanced over at Hung. The kid's legs were shaking something awful and he was desperately clutching at a cross that hung from his neck.

"Okay, I see your point," Harry agreed. "But why? What's Rimes got against you?"

"Let's just say that if I had a dick, I doubt I'd be having these problems."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Well, I've got a dick. The guy still seems to hate me."

Tessa shrugged. "That's probably because you _are_ a dick."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry replied with a grin.

Before Tessa could say anything else, Rimes pulled the receiver away from his ear and stood up.

"Now that everyone's here…" he trailed off as he glared at Harry briefly. At the same time, the engines roared to life. "It will take us twenty minutes to breach Vyctor 5's atmosphere," he shouted over the uproar. "From there, another two before we reach the Pinnacle. Make your peace with God now, boys. 'Cause in twenty-two short minutes we'll find ourselves in the midst of the Devil's playpen!"

* * *

"Sir, we're entering into Confederate air space now," the pilot called out over the hum of the engines. "I'll be taking her up against the left wall of the pinnacle. It sure as hell ain't gonna be smooth, but the interference'll keep us off their scopes."

Rimes gave the pilot a thumbs-up before turning back to his team. "Helmets on and activate your internal Coms," he said. "We're breaching through the surface layer now!"

As if on cue, the hull began to tremble. Harry looked down the cabin line and spotted pink light radiating off the nose of the craft. Orange bursts flashed across the edges of the cockpit, causing the hull to groan and the vibrations to intensify. The harnesses, connected to the hull as they were, were not comforting.

Harry switched off his ComLink. "I don't think this piece of shit can take much more of this," he spoke into Tessa's ear.

"Don't worry," she replied, patting the hull affectionately, "she's been through a hell of a lot worse than this."

"That's what I'm worried about. I'm pretty sure I saw them duct taping the wings back on in the docking bay."

Tessa rolled her eyes and switched her internal transmitter back on.

As she did, the dropship lurched forward, spinning to the side. Harry, and the rest of the team, instinctively clutched at their harnesses.

"Pinnacle entry in ten!" Rimes's voice echoed over the internal transmitters.

* * *

Gunnery Sergeant Mitch Tanner paced along the control deck, his thoughts bloody. He took a lot of pride in his rank – more so than most, at least. After all, it had been over a decade since he had joined up with the Confederacy and each step up the ladder had not been easy to come by – not by any means.

He had earned his place, and he'd be damned if some brown-nosing, fresh out of the Academy douche was gonna fuck things up for him.

"It seems you were misinformed, Sergeant."

The raspy voice stopped Tanner in his tracks. "I suggest you verify your sources before interrupting my work again. The Council would not be pleased to hear that my research suffered because of your idiocy."

Tanner clenched his teeth. "Of course, _Doctor_," he ground out.

The scientist nodded and left the command post. A deathly silence passed in his wake as the rest of the room waited for the Sergeant's reaction.

It was a moment before Tanner got a hold of himself. "Back to work, all of you!" he shouted at the Techs, none of whom needed to be told twice. "Fucking useless pieces of –"

"Sir, we've got something!"

Tanner looked up, eyes hopeful. "Show me."

He quickly found himself in front of a large, circular display. A white line made its way clockwise around the frame, uncovering a fluttering of bright white dots.

"There," the young Tech pointed at a flashing pulse on the screen. "It's faint, but it's definitely something."

The Sergeant nodded, he had seen it too. "Debris picked up by the pinnacle?" he asked.

"I don't think so, Sir. Its movement seems too uniform." He paused and looked up at his CO. "I think this is it."

Tanner grinned and clapped the Tech on the shoulder. "Better late than never," he muttered under his breath.

"Private Jensen, please rotate the west wall turret three degrees north by southeast. It would seem we have company after all."

* * *

"It's telling, isn't it?" Tessa seemed to ask of no one in particular. She turned briefly and caught Harry's eyes.

"What's that?" he asked as the ship received some backlash from the atmosphere.

Tessa shrugged. "It's just…you can tell a lot about a man by the way he prepares himself for war."

When she didn't elaborate, Harry followed her gaze down the line, back toward the rest of the team. His eyes first fell upon Hung, who was hunched over in his seat, his silver cross dangling freely from his neck. In his left hand he gripped a crumpled piece of paper. The ink was worn and stained. With his right hand, he traced the sign of the cross over his chest.

Harry looked away. It felt wrong to eavesdrop on something so distinctly personal.

And yet, he had never had much faith in religion himself. In a way, it seemed silly to believe blindly in the miracles of the world when magic existed at your fingertips. He had once been told that Faith could move mountains. He had smiled at that. Apparently, he and Faith had something in common.

A metallic clicking sound pulled Harry from his thoughts and his eyes found their way to the back of the row. Rimes sat, one leg over the other, comfortable amidst everyone else's fear. He pulled back the bolt on his C-14 rifle, dislodging a shell. He was quiet as his hands worked, moving over the weapon with a cool efficiency.

Across the row, Bison leaned back, eyes closed. His leg tapped the floor to the rhythm of an unheard beat while Smith and Crowley chatted nervously beside him.

"So, what does talking to me say about you?" Harry asked, turning back to Tessa.

She grinned slyly. "Nothing. I'm not a man, now am I?"

"That's –"

The cabin lights dimmed and went red. An alarm pierced through the hearts of all those aboard.

"Lieutenant, I don't know how, but we've just been missile locked!" the pilot shouted from the cockpit before pulling back hard on the flight controls. The dropship nosed up violently.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Rimes shouted back, breaking the panic that had fallen over the crew. "I don't care how you do it, just get us the fuck on the ground. Preferably, in one piece!"

The pilot wasted no time replying. He spun the controls and the ship went into a dive. As it did, the radar on the console picked up a new blip speeding toward them at almost four-thousand meters per second.

Harry looked out the cockpit window. There was no time left. Despite the pilot's best attempts, they wouldn't shake the missile before it closed the distance between them. He snatched up his wand and tried to focus.

The missile wobbled once, twice, three times - but continued to close the gap.

"Too fast, too fast," Harry muttered under his breath. He shut his eyes tight. "Come on, come on damnit!" A bead of sweat swam down his cheek. "Almost…there!"

In a shower of sparks, the left tail fin of the missile broke away from the shaft, forcing the weapon off course. It swerved just right of the dropship before exploding with tremendous force.

There was the briefest moment of relief.

And then the shockwave of the explosion rippled outward, thrashing the hull of the ship and forcing it into the wall of the pinnacle.

The left wing was the first to make contact. It tore through the inner wall of the vortex, eliciting a shower of sparks as the plumes of sand beat against the craft's metal exterior. Chaos ensued. Weapons, armor, and all types of field equipment were hurled about the cabin, creating a hazardous display of flying armament. Amidst the whirlwind of weaponry, the team was thrown forward in their seats only to be held forcefully in place by their safety harnesses.

The leather shoulder straps cut into Harry's chest, drawing a low moan from his lips. A split second later and his head struck a rifle that had been freed from its rack. His eyes watered as he tried to clear his head, but the force of the turbulence made even his own thoughts feel like daggers. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

"Potter! Potter!"

Harry forced his eyes open. Tessa was shaking his shoulder with one hand while keeping pressure on his forehand with the other. Behind her, Rimes was fighting his way toward the cockpit, using the rings on the ceiling as support.

"What the hell is he doing?" Harry asked feebly, wincing after each word.

Tessa looked back over her shoulder. "The pilot's unconscious," she explained before frowning. "Look, you're loosing a lot of blood. We need to get something –"

"What?" Harry reached his hand up to his head and felt blood flowing freely from a gash there. He shook his head. "Fuck that. We need to get the wing free from the wall, now!"

"Rimes is on it," Tessa said, ignoring the urgency in his voice. She slipped a knife out of her belt and cut off a piece of her harness. "Here, wrap this around your head."

Harry waved her off. "There's no time, they're just –"

The cabin lights dimmed, turning red once more. The missile warning rang out from the cockpit and Tessa's eyes widened in fear.

They were in deep shit.

Rimes quickened his pace, but he was still a good 20 feet away from the controls. Even if he got there before the missile hit, there wouldn't be enough time to avoid the blast.

"I need my helmet," Harry said quickly, already undoing the harness around his shoulders.

Tessa pushed him back down in his seat. "Don't be stupid. Look at you!"

"I'm fine," Harry lied. In actuality, his head hurt like a bitch, but it was pain and pain meant he was alive. He wanted to stay that way. "Just get my helmet," he added impatiently.

Tessa narrowed her eyes. "I can't, the visor's shattered. It's useless -"

"My helmet. Now."

Tessa picked the broken frame off the seat next to her and roughly shoved it into Harry's hands.

Harry looked toward the cockpit. Rimes was just reaching the ship's controls. Even the best pilot in the universe couldn't fly them out of this mess now. And the missile was probably too close to divert with magic…

"How much do you think this ship weighs?" he asked, rounding on Tessa. But before she could reply he shook his head, as if answering his own unspoken question.

Tessa gave a nervous laugh. "I think you hit your head worse than I thought…"

"I must have," Harry agreed as he grabbed onto a support beam and pulled himself up. "'Cause this has got to be the stupidest plan I've ever come up with."

"Potter, don't be a hero. You're no use to us dead."

Ignoring her for the moment, Harry drew his wand over his helmet. The shattered visor and dented frame reformed beneath his touch, becoming as solid as the day they were made.

Satisfied, he slid the helmet over his head, locking it into his suit. Then he looked back at Tessa. "What makes you so sure I'm not just saving my own ass?"

And with that, he disappeared from the dropship.

* * *

Harry tumbled through the atmosphere, making a beeline for the incoming missile. There was no margin for error here and that's what worried him. If he didn't time this just right – well, there wouldn't be any second chances.

He unlocked his arms, throwing them out to steady his free-fall. Behind him, the dropship continued its quick descent, gaining on him even as it's left wing continued to tear through the wall of the pinnacle.

It would all be over in the blink of an eye.

Harry extended his hand as far as he could, focusing intensely on apparating. His fingers grazed the shaft of the missile – a split second of contact – as the weapon rocketed by his side.

And with a sharp crack they were gone.

Harry felt himself begin to freefall almost immediately as he reappeared a hundred yards behind the dropship. Above him, the missile continued to race upward, farther and farther away from its target. It covered 20 more yards before exploding in a fiery blast of shrapnel. The green and orange shockwave couldn't have looked more like celebratory fireworks to Harry.

But when he glanced back toward the dropship, he realized the victory had been short lived.

As the ship attempted to pull away from the wall of the pinnacle, the torque on the wing finally proved to be too much. There was a terrible screeching sound, akin to dragging metal over metal, and the left wing was rent apart, sucked into the flow of the pinnacle.

The dropship spun out of control, spiraling into a death dive, black smoke billowing in its wake.

There were no options left. Harry apparated four times in quick succession, pulling past the dropship's freefall as he strained his eyes, searching for the surface of Vyctor 5. Eventually, it loomed up in the distance, a blazing red landscape that burned like the sun.

Harry apparated once more, getting as close as he could to the surface.

"_Arresto momentum_," he intoned, slowing his descent mere feet from the ground. His body hit the dirt with a dull thud, knocking the wind out of him and smashing his left arm.

Harry rolled onto his back, eyes shut in pain.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

He opened his eyes. Fine red grains beat against his helmet's visor. The planet was raining sand. Red fucking sand.

But more importantly, it was also raining dropships.

Harry did some rough calculations in his head – weight, speed, distance - and it all seemed to add up to one thing: Impossibility. Displacing or halting something so massive, so quickly, would take an incredible amount of energy.

This wasn't a hurdle. This was a brick wall.

"_Arresto momentum_!" he shouted, jabbing his wand up at the dropship.

He felt the strain almost immediately, as if he had attached 50-pound ankle weights to his wrist. His arm sagged under the pressure and he was forced to use his injured arm for support. The pain branched through his arm and into the rest of his body, threatening to crush him into oblivion.

The dropship continued to plummet, the force on his body only increasing. Sweat and blood alike poured off Harry's shaking form. His legs twitched and his feet dug deeper and deeper into the pools of collected sand.

As his feet disappeared beneath the surface, Harry's eyes widened in fear. "No…not this, not again," he whispered. The loss of concentration forced him to a knee, where he only sank further into the red earth. All the while, the sand continued to rain down upon his shoulders, threatening to break his will.

But in that moment Harry looked up, his eyes burning fiercely.

"I fucking –" he tore one leg out of the sand. "Hate –" he forced the other free. "This dream!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. With renewed vigor, he took another step forward, his wand growing warm under the steady flow of magic.

He pushed on, holding strong for another solid minute before he began to notice his vision blurring. Images swam before his eyes as his sight darkened around the edges.

And then, in an instant, everything went black and he fell limp onto the sandy plain.

* * *

"I've got it," Dr. Flanx called out, his voice rising over the roar of the dune buggy's engine. "It's just north of this ridge."

Private Jensen dropped the pedal to the floor. Beside them, their trio of goliath escorts kept pace easily, rotary cannons scouting the area for trouble.

They hopped the ridge and came to a stop a few meters outside the bend. Flanx kept his head bent low over a handheld monitor as he exited the buggy and walked around the area. The goliaths, Sergeant Tanner in lead, formed a defensive perimeter.

Crackling rang out from the gadget. Flanx moved in a wide arc, following the noise to its peak. Eventually, he came to a stop over a flat area of ground, signaling for Jensen to come over.

"Here, Sir?" the Private asked, confused.

Flanx smiled and tapped the screen of the monitor. "Science doesn't lie, Private."

"If you say so."

Both men dropped to their knees and began to sift through the newest layers of sand, searching outward from their position. The work was tedious. And Jensen was about to say as much when his fingers hit something just below the surface.

"Sir, there's something here," he said, continuing to dig through the red earth. His fingers touched upon cool metal and soon the outline of a person took form. The glass of the figure's helmet was fogged up, indicating that he was still breathing. At least for now.

"Quickly, get him out," Flanx ordered. "He may not last much longer."

It was a few more minutes before they lifted the man out of the ground and secured him in the back seat of the buggy.

A crackling of static broke over Jensen's earpiece and he pressed his fingers to his ear, securing the signal. After a moment, he stood at ease.

"Sir," he began, relaying his orders to Flanx, "Sergeant Tanner wishes to detach as your escort and check out the crash site."

"A fools errand. Did he not see the explosion? No one could have survived that crash."

"He is adamant."

Flanx smiled. "Of course he is." He paused for a moment, thinking. "It's fine. We don't need an escort back to the facility."

Jensen gave a thumbs-up and the goliaths took off running, their metallic legs kicking up plumes of sand as they moved toward the crash site. Then he looked back at the doctor and the mysterious man they had pulled from the earth.

"Who in god's name is this?"

Flanx's eyes lit up. "I always assumed the girl was one of a kind…"

* * *

Private Durchik had always been fond of beaches. Back home on Tarsonis, the beach had kept him sane. It had been his safehouse, the place to go when he needed to wind down, relax and kick back after a rough day at the Marine Corps.

Now, as he dragged his ass through a downpour of red sand, the sun turning his battle suit into a personal inferno, he concluded that Vyctor 5 was nothing less than sacrilege. It was like the planet had taken everything good about the beach – the cool breeze, the warm sand beneath your toes, the sun overhead – and twisted it into something terrible, something hellish and inhuman. It was the worst sort of treachery.

He stopped for a moment, raised his visor, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Then he let the tactical rope drop from his shoulders. Up ahead, the rest of the team came to a halt as well.

Durchik sat down in the sand, next to the makeshift sled and the unconscious form of Lieutenant Rimes.

"This is some bullshit," he said before taking a quick swig from his canteen. "Remind me, why am I the designated pack mule?"

"Remember when we were looking for something to make the sled out of and you tore that piece from the ship's hull?" Bison asked.

"Yeah…"

"Remember afterward," Tessa chimed in. "When you said you were the strongest man alive? That god himself had chiseled your body out of stone?"

"Yeah."

"That's why."

"That's some bullshit right there."

"Yeah, that's what we thought too," Tessa said, not bothering to look up from the map she was holding. Bison laughed. He walked over and sat down next to the disgruntled Private, patting him on the back.

"Crowley, Smith and Hung are sure taking their sweet time," Durchik muttered. "You think they'll find anything out there?"

Bison held his hand up, letting red sand accumulate in his palm. "In this shit? I doubt it – Can't hardly see a few feet in front of your own face."

"I think our best bet is to make it here before nightfall," Tessa cut in, pointing to a point on the map. "There's an old abandoned observatory there, built a few years back, before Lookout Plateau was constructed."

"Yeah, if that map's even accurate," Bison said. "Our Intel couldn't even figure out that this place pisses sand. I mean, that little detail's pretty hard to miss. You think they actually got the map right?"

Tessa shrugged. "It's the best we've got."

Movement in the distance brought the three marines to attention. Durchik and Bison picked up their C-14 rifles, leveling them to a perfect killing height. Tessa slid her C-7 pistol out of its holster and dropped to a knee.

It was difficult to see anything through the falling sheets of sand, but slowly the outline of three figures appeared. A muted green flash followed, their makeshift signal to warn against friendly fire. Tessa, Bison, and Durchik relaxed their weapons.

A moment later and the rest of their troop came into view, Crowley at point. Smith kept on his heels, weapon shouldered and visor up, while Hung took up the rear.

"Any sign of him?" Tessa called out.

"Nada," Smith replied, shaking his head. "It's a shit storm out there. We were lucky to find our way back."

Tessa scowled. "What about the suit trackers?"

"Er…still offline, just like the Coms," Hung said, setting his rifle and his pack on the ground. He twitched when Tessa cursed under her breath, and then more so when she cursed at him.

"Dammit, Hung. Aren't you supposed to be the communications expert? We sure as hell don't bring you along for your nerves of steel."

Durchik stood up and dusted himself off. This was unlike Tessa, usually she took it easy on the brat. Potter's disappearance was certainly taking its toll on her. "Whoa, relax Tessa. This place is screwy. Give the kid some time to figure it out. And besides, we need to keep moving if we wanna have a shot at reaching that observatory before nightfall."

"What observatory?" Crowley asked. Tessa pulled out the map once more.

When the rest of the team had been filled in, everyone began to gather their packs. Bison walked up to Tessa and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Potter can look after himself, Tessa. We need to do the same for ourselves."

Tessa turned and locked eyes with the marine. "Finding Potter _is_ looking after ourselves. Without him, this mission's more fucked than a streetwalker in a gaslight district."

* * *

Harry woke to the strong glare of fluorescent lights and the overwhelming stench of ammonia. He tried to shield his eyes from the light, but found his arms and legs bound, shackled to an electronically rigged chair. The room itself was freezing. He shivered, his body struggling against his bindings, and felt pain tear up his spine.

He was hurt, trapped, and worst yet – without his wand.

But he was not alone.

To his right, similarly shackled to a gurney, was a girl. Her long auburn hair fell over the edge, pulled back just enough to expose her russet-tanned skin. She seemed to be wearing some sort of military uniform, which wove tightly around her form, as if loose ends would only slow her down. Hazel eyes stared up at the ceiling, just below a metal trinket cuffed around her forehead.

Harry recognized her. She was one of their mission objectives, Mengsk's mystery girl. Sarah something.

"Hey," he whispered. Then, "Hey, Sarah," louder. No response. She was there in body, but not in spirit.

"I'm afraid she won't be very good company," a strained voice called out from the darkness.

Startled, Harry struggled against his shackles in vain.

The voice let out a rough laugh before its owner stepped into the light. The old man was frail and thin, with an even thinner hairline. He wore a loose-fitting, white trench coat and moved with a limp. Stitched over a pocket in black, loopy lettering was his name, Dr. Flanx.

Another objective.

"That will do you no good, soldier. Those are made of the strongest Ore in the sector. You could struggle every minute of a hundred lives and they would be no worse for the wear."

Harry gave one last tug against his restraints, as if to say, "fuck you," before settling himself.

"Look, old man, I'll make you a deal – a one time offer," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Uncuff me, let me go, and I'll let you walk away from this with your life."

Flanx smiled as he moved toward Harry's side. "You're in no position to bargain, let alone make idle threats, _boy_. You will live as long as you are useful to me." He glanced in Sarah's direction. "Just like her."

"What the hell do you want?" Harry asked, trying to remain calm despite the nagging feeling that he was in serious trouble. "What have you done to her?"

"I want what all great scientists want. For their work to make a difference."

Flanx walked over to Sarah's gurney. He pressed his finger onto a scanner and then typed in a key code. Twenty metal arms shot out of the table, each ending in a thin needle. They pierced through pre-made holes in Sarah's uniform, before imbedding in her skin, all along her body. She remained motionless.

"You fucking psychopath!" Harry shouted. Thin streaks of blood began to seep from the puncture points. It was horrible, but Harry couldn't look away.

Flanx didn't even flinch. He pressed a second button and the metal collar around Sarah's head took on a reddish hue.

A terrible growl emanated from the other side of the room, followed soon after by a slashing sound. Harry turned his head just as Flanx flipped the final light switch. The other end of the ward was split off from the rest of the room by a cross working of steel bars. They stretched from floor to ceiling, an impenetrable gate to the monster they kept at bay.

Harry recoiled when he saw it. The closest thing it resembled was some kind of canine. But instead of skin, its body was a carapace of sharpened spines, which peaked at its neck in the form of two scythe-like claws. Its gaping maw was filled with row upon row of razor sharp teeth. Two smaller claws crowned the sides of its mouth.

The creature was like something out of a nightmare. It viciously tore at its enclosure, kicked up into some kind of bloodlust.

"What…the fuck is that…" Harry mumbled under his breath.

Flanx smiled. "A weapon the likes of which this universe has never seen. And you –" he pointed quickly at Harry, "-and you're friend over there are the keys to harnessing it."

* * *

Crowley threw his pack down in disgust. They had arrived at the observatory on schedule last night only to find that it was indeed abandoned. The place was completely bare, stripped of anything and everything that may have been useful for their mission. And to further add to their problems, the Lieutenant was still unconscious, leaving Tessa in a position to squander their limited resources searching for Potter.

Enough was enough.

"This is insane, Tessa," he finally said. "We need to use the element of surprise while we still have it, while they still think we're dead. We should move on the facility."

Tessa looked up from the map she was marking. There were a series of concentric circles drawn around the location of the crash site – search parameters. Hung continued to tinker with the electronics in the corner, trying his best to stay out of the coming argument.

"Down two men - one of which is our Lieutenant – and without our siege tank? Have you lost your mind?"

"The Lieutenant might never wake up! What are we gonna do, stay here forever?"

"If we rush this, we're all dead," Tessa said with some finality, as if pulling rank with her tone. But Crowley wasn't finished. He slammed his hands onto the table, working himself into a rage.

"Dammit, Tessa, Potter's playing us!"

Tessa rolled her eyes. "Not this shit again, Crowley. Seriously, give it a rest."

"They knew we were coming," Crowley continued, undeterred. "Someone had to have tipped them off, someone who knew specifics about the mission. Potter left the ship when we were fired upon, for fuck's sake! And now he's conveniently disappeared?"

"He was saving our lives, you moron," Tessa shot back. "How do you explain us surviving the crash?"

Crowley threw his hands up as he paced around the room. "Who the fuck knows? This planet rains sand, who knows what else is different about it?"

"Actually, the sand is picked up by the pinnacle," Hung cut in, unable to control himself. It's really quite fascin–"

"Shut the fuck up, Hung!" Crowley shouted.

"You two idiots are completely useless."

Tessa, Crowley, and Hung all looked up in shock. There, holding onto the hallway entrance for support, was Lieutenant Rimes. He looked like a train wreck. Yellow splotches, the offspring of a series of large-scale bruises, colored his exposed skin. The rest of his body was concealed beneath a quilt of makeshift bandages.

"Lieutenant," Crowley said, bringing his hand into a salute. Tessa mirrored the action with noticeably less zeal. Hung simply continued to stare.

"Where are we?" Rimes asked after waving off the salutes. He limped toward the table in the center of the room and sat down opposite Tessa.

Crowley moved over toward the row of windows and leaned against the ledge. The sun was just peeking through a slit in the shielding, providing the only light in the vast room. "An abandoned observatory about ten klicks from the crash site," he said.

"And the rest of the team?"

"Out," Tessa said, "on my orders."

Rimes raised an eyebrow. "Doing what exactly?"

"Looking for Potter," Crowley spat out. He wore a large grin, certain that Rimes would find these searches as idiotic as he did.

"And?" Rimes asked.

Crowley's grin morphed into a look of disbelief. "Sir, with all due respect, how can you condone these searches? Potter's probably the one who leaked the details of our mission to the confederates."

Rimes leaned forward in his chair, clutching his ribs. "There were over fifty officers in our prep meeting," he said, his voice weary and riddled with pain. "Anyone of them could have given us up. Now, Tessa, any luck with Potter?"

"Uh…nothing as of yet, sir," Tessa continued, slightly thrown off by Rimes's cool demeanor.

"Actually, guys, I think I –" Hung began, looking up from his ComLink.

"Then get the rest of the team back here, ASAP," Rimes continued, closing his eyes and ignoring Hung. "We need to improvise our plan of attack."

"Guys –"

"Our Coms are down," Tessa said, glancing briefly at Hung before meeting Rimes's eyes. "We'll have to wait till they loop the parameter."

"That's not –"

"Then we wait," Rimes agreed.

"Fucking hell!" Hung shouted. The room went dead as all eyes turned on him.

"Er…it's just - that's what I'm trying to tell you," he mumbled. "I've got our electronics back online."

Tessa moved like lightning. She ran up to Hung and swiped the controlled out of his hands. A series of numbers flashed up on the screen. She studied the display for a moment, and then looked up at Rimes. "Potter's Com is offline, but his suit tracker is still active. He's at JTG1629. Where is that?"

Rimes drew his hand over the map, following the grid reference system. "Interesting," he said slowly. "He's in the facility."

"Ha! I told you, Tessa," Crowley said, pushing himself up off the ledge. He moved back toward the table and sat down, a smug look sprawled across his face.

"That means nothing, you dumbass," Tessa replied. "He could be a prisoner for all we know."

"It makes no difference," Rimes said, effectively stalling the argument. "Our mission objectives lie in that facility. But for our sake –" he paused for a moment, locked in thought, "-let's hope you're wrong, Crowley. Otherwise this mission just got a hell of lot more difficult."

Crowley's eyes widened. He'd been obsessed with labeling Potter as the bad guy. So much so, that he'd never stopped to think exactly what it would mean to be right. Could the kid be stopped? Could they even kill him if they had to?

"Hung," Rimes continued. "Contact the _Hyperion_ and update them on our situation. Then get the rest of the team back here. We strike tonight."

* * *

Private First Class Jake Riley rocked his chair onto its back legs and rested his hands behind his head. The sand was coming down in torrents now, but he did his best to ignore it, already used to this bizarre aspect of the planet. He reached into his pocket and gingerly pulled out the picture of the Kel-Morian girl he had met while on leave there.

The girl was a true beauty. He couldn't help but cling to the hope that one day, when he had put in his due time, he'd marry a girl like Gina and retire to Tarsonis. With his recent promotion to First Class, he had assumed that his dreams were all the closer. But then they had transferred him here, to this shit detail, on this shit planet.

He figured that the only thing worse than guard duty on Vyctor 5 was watching his dreams die a slow, painful death.

Movement on the scanner in front of him pulled Riley from his thoughts. A group of small green dots came into focus on the radar, eliciting a series of _pings_ from the machine.

He jumped to his feet, knocking his chair backwards in his eagerness. The scanner was likely just picking up a pack of desert wolves, but it worth checking out. After all, entertainment on the job wasn't exactly commonplace, so he'd take what he could get. He picked up his binoculars and moved to the edge of the guard tower.

Flicking on the night vision setting, he briefly scanned the surrounding area. Nothing. He checked again. Still nothing. He was just about to call it quits when he caught a flash of light in the distance. There was something just over the nearest dune.

He zoomed in, turned the focus knob and came eye to eye with the scope of a rifle.

* * *

Smith whistled appreciatively as he looked down at the guard's corpse. "Damn, nice shot, Tessa."

"Yeah," Bison agreed. "Right in the eye. You think he saw it coming?"

"Nah, no chance. Probably –"

"Will you two shut up," Tessa said, trying to hide her amusement. She turned and set her grappling gun down on the floor of the guard tower. "This isn't social hour. Someone grab his ID card already."

Durchik knelt down and checked the guard's pockets. "Shit."

"You've got to be kidding," Crowley said. He glanced around the perimeter once more to make sure they were all clear. "Check again. He has to have it on him."

"No, no, the ID's right here," Durchik replied, tossing the card to Crowley. "But look at this fine piece of ass."

He stood up and flashed a picture of a gorgeous, brunette girl.

"Shit," Smith said.

Durchik smirked. "Right? Way too hot for this chump."

"Beat off to it later, you morons," Tessa said, as she pulled the bolt back on her rifle, letting a shell fall from the tray. "Let's try to stay focused here."

As a team, they followed Tessa's lead toward the rear of the tower. Crowley swiped the guard's ID card and the door slid open, granting them access to a spiral staircase.

"Once we drop down into the main facility, remember your man and stick to him," Tessa said. "And make sure your weapons are silenced. If we stick to the plan, this might just be a smooth operation."

* * *

Tessa pushed her back flat against the wall. She peeked around the corner of the hallway and spotted two Confederate soldiers guarding the entrance to the laboratory. They were lost in conversation. Easy targets.

She ducked back behind cover and held up two fingers. Then she pointed at Durchik, signaling for him to take the man on the right. The large marine dropped to the floor. He inched toward the far edge of the hallway, opening up his line of sight. Tessa twisted her body around the corner.

They fired in unison, their silenced rifles sounding like pin drops on the air. The two guards crumpled, dead before they touched the ground.

The team moved quickly. Durchik and Hung grabbed a body each, while Tessa snatched an ID card off one of the guards and swiped it. The keypad flashed green and the door slid open. Rifle up, Tessa led the way.

The room was dimly lit, but the white walls flashed violently under the fluorescent lights. Most of the area was covered in a mish-mash of surgical and electrical equipment, though an odd caged area took up a large portion of the rear. But it was the center of the room that caught Tessa's attention.

"Shit, it's Potter," she said, moving toward Harry's still form. His green eyes were open, but distant. Twenty metal tubes pierced the full length of his body.

Durchik and Hung dropped the dead guards in the corner of the room, sealed the laboratory door, and hustled over to Tessa's side.

"And Kerrigan," Durchik said, pointing to the girl on the adjacent gurney. It was a clear sign of how disturbing the situation was that he didn't comment on her figure.

"What are they doing to –"

Footsteps.

All three marines dropped down to the floor and raised their rifles just as a second door on the right side of the room slid open.

"I told Sergeant Tanner that I was _not_ to be disturbed," a tired voice called out. "Why does he insist on testing my -"

"It's Dr. Flanx," Hung whispered.

Flanx stopped short. His eyes moved from the three, armed marines in front of him to the dead guards in the corner of the room.

"Who are you people?" he asked, as he slowly backed toward the doorway.

Durchik wasted no time. He fired a single round at the door's console, which exploded on contact, sending a shower of sparks into the air. The door slammed shut and Flanx fell to his knees, covering his head with his hands.

"We're friends of your test subjects," Tessa said, standing up and hovering over Flanx's frail form. "Now get your sorry ass over there and wake them up."

* * *

Harry felt a spark of fire jump into his fingertips. It settled there, arcing between his digits like lightning, before it surged down his arm and into his chest, setting his heart ablaze. His pulse raced, his body shook, and then the fire exploded outward, settling over every spare inch of his being. The warmth wrapped him in a familiar embrace, a cocoon of safety and magic.

He looked down at the wand in his hand and drew in a calming breath.

"Thank you," he whispered, glancing up at the three marines in front of him.

"Well, we had to get Kerrigan anyways, so we figured 'why not,'" Tessa said, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

Harry forced a smile. Now that there was a Ghost in their midst, he would be hard-pressed to keep his past a secret. Kerrigan didn't need a wand for power - Flanx had said as much when he mentioned the tests he had run on Harry's wand. And there were bound to be other differences that would only further distinguish him from a normal psychic.

If Kerrigan joined the Sons of Korhal, it would only be a matter of time before his teammates began to notice those differences. He would have to be ready for when they did.

Harry turned his head and looked at the still form of the Ghost. "Why is she not awake?" he asked, trying his best to keep the team's focus off himself.

"She's been under for much longer than you," Flanx said, under the encouragement of Durchik's rifle. "It will be awhile before she's fully conscious."

Harry paused for a moment. Then, as if noticing Flanx for the first time, leveled his wand at the man's face. "Remember my deal?" he asked.

Flanx's eyes widened.

"It's time to pay up."

"Potter, no!" Tessa shouted. "You can't kill him. Mengsk will crucify you for it."

Harry clenched his teeth. He wanted this. Badly. Red light pooled at the tip of his wand for a long moment, before he lowered his hand in disgust.

Durchik walked up behind Harry and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Save it for later, bud."

But Harry wasn't paying attention. He slipped a clip out of Durchik's belt and threw it on the ground in front of Flanx.

"Pick that up," he said, eying the old man with an amused smile.

Flanx furrowed his brow. He glanced between Tessa and Durchik, looking for a hint of understanding. But they were just as confused as he was. Cautiously, he bent down and scooped the clip up in his right hand.

"Perfect," Harry said. He flicked his wand and a bright, red light burst from the tip of the shaft, humming with vicious intent. The air turned to steam as the curse cut a path toward the aged scientist.

Flanx looked down in shock as his left arm fell to the ground, cut off at the elbow. A moment later, and Harry threw up a silencing charm as the man let out a terrible scream.

"Dammit, Potter," Tessa said. "How the hell are we supposed to explain that to Mengsk and Rimes?"

"Easy," Harry replied with a grin. He levitated the arm away from Flanx, who watched it sail away with dead eyes, and banished it into the caged area of the room. "He lost the arm playing with his mutant dog."

And before the three marines could question Harry's sanity, the horrific creature Harry had seen earlier bashed its head against the steel bars. In its mouth, was Flanx's severed arm.

"See," Harry said, as his team looked on in shock. "Problem solved."

Durchik gave a loud shriek as he raised his rifle and stumbled backwards, falling onto his ass. "What the…what in the hell is that thing?" he sputtered from his spot on the floor.

Tessa shook her head as she stared down at the marine. "Very manly, Durch. Really. Glad you're on our side."

"Are you kidding me? Look at that fucking thing!"

"I don't see Hung on the floor," Tessa countered smoothly, causing Durchik to flush. Harry glanced over at Hung and almost laughed. The kid was frozen on his feet. If he wasn't stunned, there was no doubt in Harry's mind that he too would have been acquainted with the floor.

Harry walked over to Durchik, grabbed his arm and helped him up. "The doc said it's some type of weapon. I think he might have created it."

"Looks more like an alien or something," Durchik muttered. He dusted himself off and puffed out his chest. "It's lucky it's caged up though, otherwise it'd be eating lead right about now."

Tessa laughed. Harry started to join in, but stopped. "Wait, what did you say?"

"That the thing's lucky, that's all," Durchik muttered. "Jeez, no need to lay into me."

Harry shook his head. "No, no. Before that."

"What? That the thing looks like an alien?"

Harry froze, eyes going glassy.

_Recent Intel has shown that the Confederacy is experimenting with aliens and alien-based technology._ How the hell did he miss this? Was this what Mengsk had offered him? Was this his chance to go home, to change the past?

"What's the matter, Potter?"

_The same aliens that led to the destruction of the wizarding world. And likely the same technology that brought you here to our time_. Harry glanced up and looked at the creature once more. It sure didn't look like the aliens from back on Earth, but it couldn't be anything else. There was simply too much here to be a coincidence. This had to be it. The only other explanation would be –

"Potter!"

Harry fell out of his thoughts. He looked up at his three teammates, all of whom were wearing looks of concern mixed with more than a little bit of confusion.

"Lost you there for a moment," Durchik said slowly. "What's the deal?"

His question fell of deaf ears. Harry walked over to Flanx and grabbed his collar, shaking him into consciousness. "You said you were making a weapon. What were you talking about?"

"They're…" the scientist mumbled, his eyes flickering. They are…weapon."

"What does that – Dammit, _Ennervate_!" Harry said, jabbing his wand at Flanx's limp form. "What does that mean, what –"

Harry broke off as Tessa moved to his side. She rested her hand on his, lowering his wand. "Potter, enough," she said softly. "He's in shock. What are you -"

"It's… nothing," he lied, shrugging off her hand and standing up. It was best to leave them to their own assumptions. "Don't worry about it. Look, we need to stay focused, keep moving."

Tessa looked skeptical, but decided against pressing him for information. "I'll contact Crowley," she said, giving Harry one last questioning look. "Hung, download the doc's research data off the computers."

Harry's eyes widened as they followed Hung toward the computer station. But he held his tongue. He'd get a copy of those files and he'd learn the truth, whether Mengsk wanted him to or not.

"Crowley, do you read me?"

"Tessa, where are you guys?" Crowley's voice crackled over the Com.

"The lab. We've got Potter, Kerrigan, and Flanx. We just need to find Darston now and –"

There was some commotion in the background before Crowley's voice cut through once more. "Don't bother, we ran into him. He's a real piece of work. We've set charges on the commutation tower and we're heading for the roof. I'd say we have another fifteen minutes before the guards switch shifts and our cover's blown."

"Okay. We'll rendezvous with you there." The line went dead.

"So, we're all set?" Durchik asked, bending down to pick up his gear.

"Just need to contact Rimes and tell him to keep the lines with Command open." Tessa replied.

Harry pulled himself up off the ground and looked at Tessa. "Rimes isn't here?"

"He was injured pretty badly in the crash," Durchik answered, while Tessa rerouted her Com to the observatory's frequency. "He's running communications with Command out of an abandoned observatory we found."

Harry nodded.

"Rimes, we've secured all our objectives. We're heading toward the point of extraction." Tessa said.

There was a moment of silence before Rimes's voice echoed throughout the laboratory. "Good. I'll advise Command to prime Alpha Division for a fly-through."

* * *

"This is getting old, fast," Durchik complained, as he readjusted Flanx's positioning over his shoulder. "You can't hold that comment against me forever, you know."

Harry glanced over at Tessa and raised an eyebrow. Tessa held in a laugh.

"It's a shame god didn't chisel your mouth out of stone as well, Durch," she said. "Maybe then you wouldn't bitch so much."

"Hilarious," Durchik deadpanned. "At least let me switch with Hung – I'm getting old man drool on my suit."

"So you can cop a feel while Kerrigan's unconscious?" Tessa reasoned. "Not a chance."

Durchik shrugged. "Oh c'mon, it's not like I could feel anything through these suits anyways," he muttered, unashamed.

Harry shook his head in amusement. Then he drew a circle in the air with his wand, checking the stability of the silencing charm he had cast around their group. It was holding.

They covered the rest of the distance in relative silence, with the occasional pause to dispose of a wandering soldier. Eventually, they rounded a final bend and found Crowley's half of the team waiting for them.

"We're all set," Crowley said, addressing Tessa. "The roof is restricted access. We set charges and tied them into those on the tower. Once we blow the roof, they won't be able to send communications outside of the pinnacle."

Tessa nodded. "Good. The roof will –" she paused as she looked past Crowley. "Why the hell is Darston gagged?"

Harry followed her gaze. Just behind Crowley, Smith was holding onto a young kid with jet-black hair and sharp features. Part of his shirt had been ripped off and was currently tied around his head, stopping-up his mouth.

"To put it bluntly," Bison cut in. "The kid's annoying."

"Really, really annoying," Smith added.

Tessa took one last look at Darston before shaking her head. "Whatever. What's the situation on the roof like?"

"Not good," Crowley said. "We'll take heavy fire as soon as we blow the door."

"I think I can help out there," Harry said, stepping forward. "I should be able to hold off most of it while you guys set the rest of the charges."

Crowley locked eyes with Harry. "So, I guess Tessa was right about you after all."

Harry stayed silent. He had no idea what Crowley was talking about, but he didn't break his gaze with the marine.

"Okay. Do your thing," Crowley said after a moment's silence. "Everyone else, stay on your guard."

He stepped back from the blast door, motioning for the rest of the team to follow his lead. Then he pulled a trigger from his pocket and flipped the switch.

* * *

Harry moved quickly and efficiently, letting his instincts take hold of his actions. He ran into the fire, his wand whipping around his body like a lasso. Without pause, he moved through the breach and onto the roof. The inferno surged in front of him, channeled into a single, massive fireball. It burst through the air just a step ahead of him, incinerating the first two guards where they stood.

Another flick and Harry multiplied their ashes, forming a dark cloud of charred bone and flesh, which he banished at the rest of the guards.

Momentarily blinded, they laid down a round of panic fire in the general direction of the rooftop entrance. The blaze of gunfire was deafening. Harry threw up a shield as his teammates funneled through the entryway and onto the roof behind him.

Durchik and Hung dropped Flanx and Kerrigan behind a barrier of rubble as Smith pushed Darston to the ground. All three marines raised their rifles, providing a round of suppressive fire.

Tessa, Crowley and Bison pushed forward, taking out Confederate soldiers with precision shooting. They made their way to the other three corners of the roof, where the missile turrets were positioned. Harry stepped forward as well, pushing more magic into his shield. Bullets stopped dead in the air as they struck the wall, producing small, raindrop-like divots in the barrier.

In the background, loud enough to be heard over the raging battle, a siren went off. The facility alarm system. Reinforcements, of the heavy persuasion, were on their way.

Harry quickly turned and shot off an explosive hex at the rooftop entrance they had created. The orange curse snaked its way through the air before making contact with the wall, caving it in.

He turned back around just in time to see three consecutive explosions as the missile turrets went up in a blaze of glory. At the same time, heavy fire from the ground focused on their position.

The 30mm smoothbore autocannons on the arms of the Goliaths unloaded a web of explosive shells. They tore through the walls and floor of the roof, wreaking havoc and forcing the team to take cover.

Harry pushed even more magic into his shield. Shell after shell exploded against the translucent barrier, pushing Harry backwards and draining his strength.

At the same time, Crowley threw a series of grenades to the corners of the roof, which exploded in clouds of green smoke. Then he turned and shouted at Hung, "Now!"

Kneeling behind a barrier of rubble, Hung opened up communication with Rimes. "Lieutenant, now!" he screamed into the Com. "Green smoke marks friendlies."

Another round of explosive shells burst through the wall of green smoke. They caught Harry off guard, making contact with his shield simultaneously. The force of impact blew him backwards and off his feet.

He hit the ground hard as gunfire continued to rain down on the team, now no longer held at bay. Everyone threw themselves to the ground. But Smith was too late. A shell exploded nearby, sending a fragment into the back of his head. It penetrated his helmet, coating the inside of his visor with chunks of brain matter.

"Smith!" Bison shouted as he crawled on his hands and knees toward the dead marine.

Everything was a blur. Harry shook himself to clear his head and cast a second shield, immediately feeling the strain on his magic as gunfire attempted to punch holes in the new barrier.

And then there was a deafening sound overhead.

Harry looked up to see a small, silver craft piercing through the pinnacle skyline. It was shaped like a massive "T," with three wings jutting out at right angles from the plane's body. A cone of vapor rested around its rear as it tore through the air, leaving in its wake a trail of red sand. Behind it, each ship taking a flight path just off-center from the others, came the rest of the fleet.

Alpha Division.

With 25mm burst lasers, the Wraiths took out the ground artillery with heavy, targeted strikes, before blowing by the facility at supersonic speed. The air surrounding the building turned red as a sea of desert sand was kicked up from the ground.

Alpha Division made a second pass, now clearing the way for an Umojan dropship to move into position. The engines of the dropship rotated downward, decreasing its speed of descent as it gently touched down in the center of the roof.

The cabin door slid open and Harry and the rest of the team jumped aboard, bringing their three objectives and the corpse of Smith with them.

The pilot looked back and Tessa gave him a ragged thumbs-up, signaling him to take off and head toward the abandoned observatory, and Rimes. Scattered rifle fire ricocheted off the hull of the ship as they pulled away.

The smell of death permeated the ship.

No one complained. No one said a word.

* * *

**A.N.** Whew, so this was a long time coming. Hope the ~11k words somewhat made up for the long wait. From now on, chapters will be more in the range of 3-4k words, but updates should come more frequently (hopefully, once a week). Anyways, as always, let me know what you think.

-R


	6. Subconscious

**Disclaimer: **Nothing's mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 6: Subconscious**

**

* * *

**

"_Dreams are often found wanting, masquerading as our past, present, and future."_

When Sarah Kerrigan woke, it was to darkness. Not the darkness that can be driven away by the coming of the light, but the darkness that resides in the deepest recesses of our minds. The place from which our fears are wrought and our skeletons are sealed away, consigned to the dungeons within, hidden under lock and key - until that one fateful day when we falter and the truth, well the truth shall set us free.

* * *

The door creaked open under the will of her mind and Sarah stepped forward, as if walking into a dream. The darkness gave way to a candlelit hallway, the floor to a gold, hand-woven rug. She moved toward the half-open door at the end of the hall, knowing her path as if she had already taken it. Then she crept inside.

A crib lay against the far wall. Overhead, moonlight peeked through a slit in the curtains, casting pale light onto the face of the sleeping child inside. He was a ball of yellow curls and rosy cheeks.

He had to die.

Sarah fled. She ran back across the hall and jumped through the open doorway just as a gunshot broke the silence of her mind.

A stairwell loomed up in front of her. She crashed into it, tumbling down to the landing. How many had she already tried? Twenty? Thirty? Sarah stood up and dusted herself off.

A second stairwell swung past her head, defying logic and gravity as it looped in on itself. Behind it, another doorway appeared on the ceiling. She climbed the new staircase, walking upside down, and paused before the inverted door.

Maybe this would be the one.

She jumped across the threshold and opened her eyes to the light.

* * *

Lights, sounds, scents, and thoughts. It was all a jumbled mess inside Sarah's head, as if her brain had been recording the whole time and was now trying to play catch-up. She took a deep breath and tasted the sterile air on her tongue. Cold and bitter. She tried to shift her weight, but her whole body was numb, frozen from disuse.

"Hello."

Sarah tilted her head to the side. Sitting cross-legged, back against the wall, was an older man. He had deep-set brown eyes and a full head of thick, brown hair. Tufts of gray were beginning to make their presence known, but they seemed to signal power instead of decadence. He was someone of stature, a leader of men. Nervous and uptight though, if his posture indicated anything. Maybe conflicted? A possible threat?

Sarah shook herself from her thoughts. What was she doing? What was all that about?

"Hi," she said, feeling her throat burn. "Where am I?"

"You are aboard the _Hyperion_, the flagship of the Sons of Korhal. My name is -"

"Arcturus Mengsk," Sarah said casually, before her eyes widened in shock. "Did you tell me that?"

Mengsk leaned forward, seemingly unsurprised. "How much do you remember about your past?"

Sarah thought back to before she had awoken, to the maze of doorways and memories. Back to the incessant killing, the horrible murders and the cruel efficiency with which she had carried them out. Even now, she could still feel the blood on her hands.

"Almost nothing," she whispered, dropping her gaze. Prickles of thoughts and images swam to the front of her mind, but they were muddled and confused. Sarah couldn't make heads or tails of it. Yet, for some odd reason they seemed distinctly foreign.

"You were a member of a top secret government program. A soldier trained to carry out the dirty work of the Confederacy," Mengsk said, drawing Sarah's attention once more. "We liberated you from a Confederate research facility where you were being drugged and experimented on."

Sarah opened her mouth only to close it.

"I understand this is a lot to take in," Mengsk continued. "Just know that we have removed your neural inhibitor and flushed the drugs from your system. Your memories should return over ti -"

"A neural what?"

"A device implanted into the brain of Confederate psychics. It ensures that they will obey their orders without fail."

Sarah laughed, she couldn't help it. It was all so impossible, and yet everything seemed to fit together, snug as the pieces of a puzzle. Her dreams, the terrible things she had seen herself do, her memory loss - they were all connected by ties she couldn't quite remember. "Psychics? Brain-washing devices? What, so I read your mind just now?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Her brain refused to work. All she could do was lie back in shock as Mengsk stood up and moved to her side. She glanced up, searching his face for something, for anything that would make sense of it all. And then suddenly she found it, resting in plain sight just behind his eyes.

"The things I've done," Sarah whispered, "you've come to kill me for them." She watched in horror as Mengsk's eyes flickered to her throat, his hands tightening by his side.

She would not beg. Something convinced her that she was stronger than that.

A long moment of silence passed before Mengsk drew in a deep breath and sighed. "No," he said finally. "No one will harm you while you are aboard this ship."

Sarah furrowed her brow, caught between relief and confusion. She had only been able to steal one thought from his head, but it had been so solid, so overwhelming. A single word: _Vengeance_. "Then what is it that you want from me?"

"For now, I simply want you to rest," Mengsk said. "There are things from your past that you will have to come to terms with. When you're better we will talk about your future and the possibility of you joining our cause." He paused for a moment as he stole one last glance at the girl. "We are not the Confederacy. Here, you will have to come to your own decisions."

Then he headed for the door.

"Are there any others on this ship?" Sarah called after him. "Others like me?"

* * *

"Unrest in the Koprulu System," a thick, heavy voice cut through the static. "That is the word from the Council of Tarsonis concerning a rebel attack that occurred late last night on Vyctor 5. The Old Families have already denounced the strike, declaring it a quote 'unprovoked terrorist assault on a peaceful environmental research facility.' The attack left twenty-seven civilians dead and is responsible for the loss of important research concerning the famous Fujita Pinnacle. Steven Berke, live from Tarsonis, has more on the story. Steve -"

Mengsk flicked the switch on the receiver and the news cast died on the air. He leaned back in his seat, running his hand through his graying hair. The attack had been the top story for the past few hours, the Universe News Network broadcasting it all around the sector. It was carefully concocted, of course. Full of lies, produced by the Council to feed to the masses. And the people would lap it up, happy to wrap their lips around the teat of the Confederacy and suck. Hard.

"Honestly, Arcturus, what did you expect?"

Mengsk looked up, raising his tired eyes to meet those of his long time friend, Ailin Pasteur. Ailin was twenty years Mengsk's senior, with a weak chin and wisps of gray hair, the remnants of his youthful exuberance. He was a careful man, but shrewd and clever - a striking government asset and a protective father.

"I knew the truth was too much to ask for, but I had hoped for at least some semblance of it," Mengsk said. "To cover up the existence of an alien race, the exploitation of psychic test subjects, the murdering of fringe world populations…it's all so -"

"So very Confederate?" Ailin concluded. Mengsk nodded. "Do your men know about the Bio-Plagues?"

"No. It's yet to come through the wire."

"The loss of life is staggering, nauseating," Ailin said, wringing his hands in disgust. "And for what? Just to keep the public in the dark?"

"It's no doubt a terrible tragedy," Mengsk agreed, as he stood up and headed toward the bar. "But one, I believe, that will work in our favor."

Ailin looked up, eyes wide. "Even in the wake of fringe world genocide, that's a disturbing comment, Arcturus."

"This is a war, my friend," Mengsk said, returning to the table with a bottle of scotch and two crystal glasses. "Make no mistake about it, war is disturbing." He filled the two glasses with the amber liquor. "I did not murder those people, Ailin. Yet, they're still dead. I simply intend to make sure that they did not die in vain, that their tragic deaths help promote the end of this horrible war."

"Ah, but I fear this war will outlast us all," Ailin replied, reaching for a glass of scotch and raising a toast. "Let us hope that simply being on the right side will save us when it does."

They clanked their glasses together and drank in silence, the weight of the conversation fading beneath the warmth of the alcohol.

"How are Juliana and Valerian?"

Ailin stiffened, his lips frozen against the crystal glass. Slowly, he lowered his drink to the table. "Safe."

"Will I get to see them?" Mengsk pressed, knowing he had already crossed the line between their business relationship and their personal one. On this side, they were little more than civil at the best of times.

"You've been gone a long time. Now that it's convenient you're suddenly interested in family again?"

Mengsk brought his glass down hard enough to chip the edge. "How dare you suggest it was easy for me," he said, his words barbed. "I did what needed to be done - what your people asked of me."

Ailin narrowed his eyes. "You're no martyr, Arcturus. This isn't about Juliana at all. This is about that Ghost, isn't it?" he said, realization slowly dawning on his face. "She's the one - the one who killed your parents."

Mengsk held his tongue and a second, less sincere silence passed between the two men. It might have lasted forever, if not for the two loud knocks that echoed from the doorway.

* * *

The door slid open and Harry stepped forward, entering into the common area of Mengsk's quarters. The stars and planets were on full display through the high arched windows and their ethereal glow offered the room a constant, never-ending source of light. It was a sight Harry would never get used to, but would always appreciate.

"Ah, Harry, always a pleasant surprise. Come, sit."

Harry looked to his left and spotted Mengsk sitting around a large, circular table. Across from him, rigid in his seat, was an older man that Harry didn't recognize. Between the two sat a noticeable tension, though each man was doing his best to hide it.

"Harry, meet an old friend of mine and Umojan Ambassador, Ailin Pasteur. Ailin, meet Harry Potter, one of our newest and most promising recruits."

Ailin stood up and shook Harry's hand. "Pleasure." Then he turned and curtly addressed Mengsk, "We should arrive at Umoja within the next few hours. Please make the necessary preparations."

Without a backwards glance, the ambassador left the room.

"He seemed happy," Harry said, as he sat down in the now vacant seat.

Mengsk watched the door slide shut before picking up his drink and taking a sip. "Yes, well Ailin is getting old and so are his conservative ideals. He feels his position as ambassador is simply a ploy by the other, more liberal council members to get him out of the way."

"Okay, he might be upset about that too, but _that_ -" Harry pointed toward the door, "- that was personal."

Mengsk gave a brief smile. "What do you want, Harry?" he asked, as he held up his glass and stared into the bottom of his scotch.

"The research that we confiscated, Flanx's research, what is it?"

"Besides confidential?"

Harry took his wand out and put it on the table in front of him. "Don't fuck with me, Mengsk," he said, maintaining his composure. He refused to let the man bait him this time. "Is it, or is it not, the alien technology you offered me for joining your rebellion? Is it my ticket home?"

"I don't know."

"You. Don't. Know," Harry repeated, feeling each word roll off his tongue like dead weight.

"I don't know," Mengsk agreed, taking another casual sip from his glass. "Not yet, at least."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, caught between brutal annoyance and sheer curiosity. This was bizarre. Something had seriously rattled this man.

"The data we collected is heavily encrypted and Flanx isn't talking," Mengsk said, regaining some of his normal composure. "Speaking of which, care to explain what happened to the good doctor's arm?"

"You know, it's the oddest thing. Apparently, the guy was a Siamese twin and his brother got the arm. Flanx got the dick though, so I think he won out there," Harry deadpanned, before his face grew serious and his eyes turned cold. "How long will the encryption take to crack?"

"A week, at most. In the meantime, Lieutenant Rimes has offered Bravo Division as the primary security unit while on Umoja. The change of scenery should do you good. And with the climate down there, it should be more like a vacation than anything else."

"Somehow I doubt that," Harry said offhandedly. "Look, I need your word that I'll be given full access to the data once it's decrypted."

If Mengsk hesitated, Harry didn't notice. "Of course, we already had a deal. Now you have my word as well."

"Good," Harry said. He stood up, grabbed his wand off the table, and headed toward the door.

"Harry," Mengsk called out. There was something in his voice, something that made Harry pause. "The Ghost is awake, and asking for you."

* * *

"Potter!"

Harry glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a flash of hair whip into view. He slowed his pace and a moment later Tessa fell into step beside him.

"Thought that was you," she said, pausing to pull a few unruly strands behind her ear. "Where are you coming from?"

Harry gave a rough laugh. There was only one reason why he would ever be on this side of the ship. Of course, Tessa already knew this. "Mengsk's," he confirmed. "Something's wrong with him today though. He wasn't even mad when I told him about Flanx's arm."

"Why would he be? You told him it was an accident, right?"

Harry picked up his pace.

"_Right_?" Tessa said, grabbing his arm before he could flee. They both slowed to a stop and Harry looked away, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face.

"I may have mentioned Flanx's Siamese twin…"

"Flanx has a Siamese twin?" Tessa asked, dubious.

"Well, no…"

"Dammit, Potter!" Tessa said, starting a second conversation with her hands. "Do you enjoy making my life a living hell?"

Harry gave up and laughed. "Oh come on, I make your life interesting. Everyone likes interesting."

Tessa scowled. "Not your idea of it. You're gonna be the death of me one of these days, you know that?"

"Maybe," Harry said with a smirk. "But only if Mengsk doesn't kill you first." He gave Tessa a pat on the shoulder and continued down the hallway. Tessa followed after him, giving him a good punch in the arm in return.

Up ahead, the guide lights flashed green, displaying the ship's wing and section number. Harry turned left and entered Wing 4L.

"The Med-Bay?" Tessa asked.

Harry nodded. "Gonna meet Kerrigan."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Mengsk said she wanted to talk to me," Harry added as an afterthought.

"Right, yeah," Tessa said quickly. She was silent for a moment. "Mind if I join you?"

* * *

Harry stepped through the entrance of the Med-Bay with Tessa in tow. Together, they wound through the maze of wards before eventually ending at the back room, having exhausted all their other options.

Sarah was sitting up in bed, her long auburn hair settling just below her shoulders. She wore a medical gown that fell loosely around her body, giving only the slightest hint of her true figure. In front of her, hovering a foot off her lap, was an old, hard-bound book splayed out along its spine. The pages were turning as if under their own volition.

Harry smiled as he heard the crisp sound of each page being flipped. It was the first bit of magic he had witnessed since jumping through time and the sight of it gave him hope. Hope that in some form or another true magic still existed in the universe.

Against his better judgment, he reached into his pocket and grasped hold of his wand. He focused on the book and the pages jumped into a frenzy, fluttering to the front cover in a way that reminded Harry of bridging a deck of cards. Sarah's eyes widened before a large smile spread across her face. She lost focus and the book dropped back to her lap.

"Impressive," she said, still smiling. She turned her hazel eyes on Harry and Tessa.

"Not too bad yourself," Harry said with a grin.

Sarah laughed. "It's starting to come back to me, I guess. It's just weird having these jumbled memories. I know I can do more, I just can't wrap my head around everything yet." She ran her hand back through her hair, as if embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. You must be Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said. "And this is Tessa."

Tessa gave a small wave. "Hey."

"Hey," Sarah said, giving Tessa a small wave back. "Nice to meet you." She glanced between Tessa and Harry for a moment and then frowned.

"Should I ask?" she said, looking curiously at Harry.

"Ask what?" Harry replied, certain he was missing something.

"No, no, not that," Sarah said with a smile as she glanced back at Tessa. Harry followed her gaze and noticed an uncharacteristic blush creep up Tessa's cheeks. Now he was thoroughly confused. "It's just - well, what are you?"

Harry felt a slight prickle tap against the edge of his thoughts and his confusion vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Tessa," he said, his eyes still fixed on Sarah. "Can you give us a moment?"

Tessa glanced between the two of them, her lips drawn into a thin line. "Yeah, sure." Without another word, she turned and left the ward.

"I'm sorry," Sarah began. "I didn't know -"

Harry held up his hand. "It's okay," he said, before his eyes turned pensive. "How could you tell?"

"We can't keep each other out," Sarah said, as she tapped her forehead. "At least not as completely as you can."

Harry gave a tentative smile. "I figured there would be other differences."

"So you're not a psychic?"

"What I am, is a long story."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. She glanced around the infirmary as if to say, "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Harry laughed. "One better left for another day," he added.

Sarah smiled. "Another day then." Harry nodded and headed for the door.

"Hey, Harry," she called out. "Your story, is it a happy one?"

Harry paused, one foot already out the door. "No."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "what do you do about the nightmares?"

It was a quiet as a whisper, but Harry heard the fear and pain in her words as if she had shouted them. "I try my best to wake up," he began slowly. "Then I remind myself that my story's still being written."

* * *

When Harry finally left the ward and retraced his steps through the Med-Bay, he looked for Tessa. But she was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Harry knocked three times with no response. He raised his fist for the fourth time, but paused mid-swing. Amidst a rattle of shuffling, there was the poignant _click_ of a lock being released and the door inched open, just wide enough for a pair of thin brown eyes to peer through the crack.

"Oh, hey Harry. Ah, here - come in," Hung said, as he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped to the side.

Harry entered the room and the door slid shut behind him. "I know this probably isn't Kosher and all that," he said, glancing around the room. "But don't you think the whole secret spy thing with the door was a bit overki-"

He broke off as he took a good look at the kid in front of him. "Whoa, you look like shit. Are you alright?" It was true, Hung looked terrible. His hair was matted together, plastered to his forehead, and in the light Harry could just make out the streaks of red creeping across his eyes.

Hung tried to force a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I'm, uh - I'm fine," he said, taking a step back. "Let me just get your thing."

"Okay…" Harry said, as he watched the kid hurry over to his desk and search through a clutter of papers. Eventually, Hung seemed to find what he was looking for and walked back over.

"Here," he said, holding out a small silver disk. Harry reached out and took it, before holding it up to the light.

"Amazing," he said, turning the disk over in his hand. "You were able to decrypt it already?"

Hung dropped his eyes to floor. "I can't."

"Wait, what?" Harry said, dropping his arm and turning his attention back to Hung. "What do you mean?"

"I just can't, okay," Hung said, his voice strained. "I made the copy for you, I can't do anymore."

Harry balled his hand into a fist around the disk. "You realize this is completely useless to me if it's still encrypted, right?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I just -"

"Can't," Harry ground out. "Yeah, I got that. _Perfect_." He turned and began to walk away, but paused before the door. He took a deep breath and collected himself.

"Thanks," he said softly, turning to meet Hung's eyes one more time. He held up the disk. "You didn't have to do this for me. So, thanks."

Hung gave a small smile. He looked at the disk in Harry's hand and seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. "Darston," he said finally.

"What?"

"Calder Darston."

"The mark from the mission?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

Hung nodded. "He's an engineering prodigy, it's why Mengsk wanted him. He can probably help you, but you, ah - didn't hear this from me."

Harry laughed. "Enough with the spy routine already," he said, before turning serious. "Thanks. I owe you one."

* * *

The engine control room was packed full of circuit generators, each one adding another 2 or 3 degrees to the already excessive temperature of the place. Harry wiped the sweat from his brow, watching as a few drops hit the metal walkway below and sizzled out of existence. Then he glanced up. Overhead, the giant, rotary fans continued to rain billows of steam down on top of him. If their goal was to make the place even more unbearable, then they were certainly succeeding.

Harry shrugged it off and continued down the gangway, pulling his wand out every now and then to cool the air around him. He passed by three more rows of generators before he came across a large, shirtless tech working on a series of circuit boards. The man looked up expectantly, his face bright red from the heat.

"I'm looking for Calder Darston," Harry said, raising his voice over the hum of the generators. "I was told he was down here somewh -"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Pete!" a high voice rang out from farther down the gangway. "How fucking stupid can you possibly be? I swear to god…"

The rest of the conversation was lost beneath a flurry of swearing. Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the tech, who simply gave a broken smile in return. "Have fun."

"Great," Harry muttered as he walked away, following after the shouting. He traced the railing around the corner and spotted Darston hovering over another tech, verbally abusing him. It was an odd sight. Darston, with his wiry frame and flat black hair, couldn't be older than 18. And yet there he was, laying down the law on a man at least 20 years his elder.

Harry stepped closer and Darston looked up, squinting through the haze of steam. After a moment, he seemed to recognize Harry and laughed.

"Well, well, well, the conquering hero has decided to grace us with his presence," he said, giving a curt bow in jest. "To what do I owe this tremendous honor?"

Harry stiffened but kept his cool. He knew kids like Darston - threats would only rile him up. "I heard you might know a thing or two about data analysis," Harry said, figuring it was best to play to the kid's ego. "That true?"

Darston scoffed. "Is Petie here an incompetent moron?" he replied, pointing to the tech. Pete glanced up from the generator he was working on, looking like he wanted nothing better than to punch the kid in the face. "The answer is yes, on both accounts," Darston added with a smirk.

Harry didn't respond. He simply glanced from Darston to Pete. Darston, for all it was worth, was quick off the mark. He turned and dismissed Pete with a wave of his hand.

"I need some sensitive information decoded," Harry continued as soon as the tech was out of sight. "Information that needs to be kept away from prying eyes."

"And naturally you came to me."

Harry nodded. "Interested?"

Darston pulled a rag from his pocket and ran it between his fingers, cleaning off the grime. "Possibly," he said after a moment of silence. "For a price, of course."

Harry smiled. He knew it would come down to this. If the price was too high, he'd use the imperius curse, though he was reluctant to do so. The connection would have to be maintained over the next seven days, and even though the kid was a real piece of shit, Harry wasn't sure whether that was reason enough to take control of his mind. If he could help it, he'd rather avoid adding another lump of coal to his already full stocking. "What do you want?" Harry asked finally.

"Thirty-thousand Paynes, " Darston said, before tossing his rag on the ground. "Shouldn't be a problem for someone like you."

"No chance."

Harry turned and began to walk away, feigning disinterest in the hopes of drawing something more reasonable from Darston's lips. He had almost rounded the bend in the walkway, cursing himself for attempting such a stupid tactic, when Darston called after him. But the response wasn't the last-minute desperation bid Harry had hoped for. Instead, the kid's words seemed to be laced with a hint of amusement.

"You know what?" Darston called out. "I don't want your money." Harry turned around. Darston was grinning now, ear to ear. "I'll do it for free, so long as you get down on your knees and beg me. Beg me for my help, and it's yours."

Harry gave a rough laugh that echoed down the gangway. He walked back toward Darston until he was close enough to feel the kid's breath on his face. "You had a better chance with the money," Harry said, his words cold.

"Predictable," Darston replied, looking up at Harry with a rather bored look on his face. "Always looking out for your pride. You know, I wonder…"

Harry clenched his fists.

"Do you think your buddy Smith would consider you a hero?"

Without a thought or a care, Harry drew his fist back and, in a single motion, buried it into the crook of Darston's nose. There was a loud _crunch_ on contact as Harry drove his arm forward, his only concern being to inflict as much pain as physically possible. Smith may not have been a best friend, or even a good buddy for that matter, but Harry felt the marine's blood on his hands all the same. He didn't need anyone reminding him of that, especially not some arrogant, teenage prick.

Someone needed to put this kid in his place. Harry had simply volunteered himself for the job.

Darston fell backwards onto the walkway, clutching his nose. Blood leaked between his fingers as he glanced up with slight trepidation in his eyes. Harry loomed over him, cracking his already-bruising knuckles with his other hand. "See you in a week, kid."

His wand was out in a flash, the unforgivable rolling off his tongue just as quickly.

The price had been too high.

"_Imperio."_

_

* * *

_"Still nothing, Sir."

Mengsk frowned and walked over to the windows of the Observation Deck. Rimes, fresh from his stint in the Med-Bay, following on his heels. Umoja loomed just outside the ship's shielding, it's green-blue mass glowing against the black backdrop of space. They were only minutes away from entry and they still couldn't reach the Umojan Protectorate.

Something was wrong.

"Are we actively scanning?" he asked the Deck Captain, Jason Marsh.

Marsh nodded. He patched the scanner through to the main console and a three-dimensional display of the planet's ground traffic materialized. Besides the movement of a series of commercial vehicles and pedestrian affairs, nothing out of the ordinary appeared.

"No Confederate ships in the area," Marsh confirmed. "And the Protectorate's communication systems appear to be intact."

Rimes stepped to Mengsk's side. "It has to be a trap," he said with a slight lisp - the only reminder of the injuries he sustained on Vyctor 5. "The Confederacy must have found out about our attempts at solidifying an alliance with Umoja."

"Perhaps," Mengsk said, as he traced his hand along the shielded window. "But if that's truly the case, then now is our chance to prove our worth to the Protectorate."

"What?" Rimes said, turning on Mengsk. "You can't possibly mean to -"

"If the Umojan Protectorate is under attack," Mengsk interrupted, "then our aid will all but guarantee their full commitment to our alliance."

"But at what cost?" Rimes almost shouted. "We have no way of knowing what's going on down there. You'd gamble with the lives of our troops? With the entire rebellion?"

Mengsk narrowed his eyes. He turned back to the windows of the deck and pointed at Umoja. "Without the aid of the Protectorate, there is no rebellion," he said, his words heavy on the air. "The Sons of Korhal cannot stand up against the full might of the Confederacy alone." He paused for a moment as he stared at the lone planet. "Without the Protectorate's financial backing, we won't last another year."

Rimes shook his head, almost too shocked to be angry. "So that's it? You're just gonna roll the dice?"

"I like to think of it as tempting fate," Mengsk said with some finality in his voice. "Get Bravo Division prepped and ready. I'll notify Ailin of our decision myself." He turned toward the deck. "Marsh, place the ship under high alert. I want weapons and scanners active as we drop in."

* * *

**A.N. **Something odd is afoot in Umoja. Stay tuned.

As always, your thoughts are appreciated.

-R


	7. Nocturnal

**Disclaimer: **Nothing's mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 7: Nocturnal**

* * *

The ship's siren blared in the background, incessant and unwavering. That alone would have been annoying enough. But when combined with the ever-lingering presence of Calder Darston jammed into the back of your mind, things turned from simply annoying to straight up painful.

Harry groaned as he cut his way through the red-lit hallway now teeming with officers and marines. Every few seconds, orders were dictated over the central Com, directing gunmen to their laser-battery stations or flight crews to their various control decks.

It was organized chaos.

"_Bravo Division to Landing Deck C5; Battle Preparations._"

"So much for that vacation," Harry grumbled, pulling out his wand. He followed the flashing guide lights and, with some quick spell work, made it to the deck in record time. The door was propped open with the butt of a rifle and Harry casually stepped over it.

Durchik was leaning up against the back wall, locked in conversation with Tessa and Bison. Hung was off to the side, lying on the ground, back up against the wall. They all looked up as Harry walked in.

"Potter," Durchik said in greeting. "You know what's going on?"

Harry shook his head. "Not a clue. You guys?"

"Nada."

"Must be trouble on Umoja," Tessa added, "no one's said anything yet, though."

Harry turned and looked at her; she was doing her best to avoid his gaze. "What happened to you earlier? You disappeared on me."

Tessa's eyes flashed for a moment. "Right, sorry," she said, glancing briefly at him. "There was some stuff I had to take care of back at the training fields… Figured you might be in there awhile, so I split."

"Gotcha," Harry said slowly, trying to read her features. Something about her just seemed off. When he couldn't put his finger on it, he looked over at Hung, who still hadn't said a word. "What's up with him? I was with him earlier and he was a wreck."

Durchik's eyes widened. "You serious? You don't know?"

"I think I'm the last person to know anything aboard this ship," Harry said with a shrug.

Tessa grabbed his shoulder and pulled him out of earshot. "His whole family," she whispered, "they were caught in the Bio-Plagues the Confederacy unleashed out in the fringe worlds."

"So…"

She caught Harry's eyes. "They're all dead, Potter. All he's got left is us and the rebellion."

Harry glanced back at Hung and suddenly everything made sense. A copy, that was one thing - Harry could have done that himself. But to decrypt the data, there were only a handful of people aboard who could do that. If Mengsk found out, Hung would be finished with the rebellion. It was too great a risk.

This was the only home he had left.

"Potter," Tessa began with more than a hint of sadness in her voice. "You should know… a large portion of the fringe worlds were affected. Your family -"

"My family's been dead a long time, Tessa," Harry said, glancing back at her. She remained silent, her eyes sparkling like light-struck glass. "But thanks." He paused for a moment, taking it all in. "Why did they do it?"

"The Confederacy?"

"Yeah."

"Officially, it was a Cholera outbreak," Tessa said, her words laced with disgust. "Unofficially, their experiments with those creatures we found on Vyctor 5 got out of control. They exterminated the inhabitants of the planets to keep the existence of those things a secret."

"I see," Harry said, kneading his forehead with his fingers. Things were getting complicated and his head was crowded enough as it was. He gave Tessa a parting glance that said, "thanks," before walking over toward Hung and sliding down the wall next to him. Hung flashed a brief smile, and Harry gave him a small pat on the knee.

"I understand why you couldn't do it," Harry said softly. "And I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose family."

Hung looked up, meeting Harry's gaze, and gave a small nod. "Thanks."

They sat in comfortable silence, the minutes ticking away slowly, until Rimes walked into the room, followed closely by Crowley.

"Listen up," Rimes said, drawing the attention of the room. Crowley hustled over and joined the rest of the team. "I have to get back to the Observation Deck, so I don't have time for any bullshit. Here's the situation: as of now, we've had no contact from Umoja, the Protectorate or otherwise. And until we do, we assume the worst. Crowley can explain the political bullshit to you while I'm gone. Just be ready for full combat when we touch down - it might just come to that."

* * *

The sun had already set beneath the Umojan mountain range when the _Hyperion_ broke through the cloud cover overlying the city. Fog lights on the exterior of the craft actively scanned the black skies, while sonar stations surveyed the area for air and ground traffic.

Laser cannons stood at attention, charged and ready.

"Sir, two Umojan Wraiths inbound!" Marsh called out from his position at the helm. "They're requesting radio contact."

Mengsk looked up, eyes wary. This was not standard procedure. "Patch them through," he said, before adding, "but be prepared to achieve a shooting solution if necessary."

Marsh nodded. He flipped a switch on the control board and a moment of white noise sounded over the deck's Com.

"This is Echo-1," a thick voice cut through the static. "Be advised, you are now entering Umojan airspace. Identify yourself immediately or you _will_ be targeted."

Rimes rounded on Ailin. "What the hell is going on?" he whispered fiercely. "First they don't respond to our hails and now they don't even know we're coming?"

"I… They must! I spoke with Jorgensen just a few days."

Mengsk looked over at Rimes and held up his hand for silence. Then he nodded to Marsh, giving him the O.K. to open the channels for their response.

"This is Commander Arcturus Mengsk aboard the _Hyperion_," Mengsk began as he paced around the deck. "We have a scheduled meeting with the members of the Umojan Council. Ambassador Pasteur is aboard if further confirmation is required."

The line went dead. Everyone on deck stiffened.

"Sir…?" Marsh said, his voice ringing with uncertainty, his hand reaching for the targeting system.

"Wait," Mengsk said.

"We need to strike no -" Rimes began.

"Just wait."

A long moment of silence passed, during which only the nervous tapping of feet on the floor could be heard. Then, out of nowhere, a voice echoed through the Com.

"Our apologies, Commander. If you'll follow us, we'll take you in."

"Roger, Echo-1. Is everything alright down there?"

"We're on high alert, Sir. There's been an attempt on the Council's lives."

* * *

With a slight kick-back, the _Hyperion _touched down in the ship containment field, just outside the star-shaped citadel of the High Council. There was a deafening blast as the two Wraiths did a fly by, circling the complex once more before reducing their speed enough to land.

"Remember," Rimes said, as he paced in front of his team. "Nothing's changed. We proceed with extreme caution. For all we know, this is just a massive trap that our fearless leader has graciously thrown us into."

Harry narrowed his eyes, as did a fair number of his teammates. Rimes speaking ill of Mengsk was a terrible omen. It meant that shit was really hitting the fan in the upper echelons of the Sons of Korhal. And that shit, well, it had nowhere else to go but down.

Soon enough, it would rain upon the grunts of the rebellion - upon Bravo Division. Harry simply had no intention of getting hit by it.

He tapped his head, reminding himself that Darston was working away. In a week's time, he might have the information he needed to get back home. And at the very least, he'd know if he could fully trust Mengsk. From there, he'd have to chose his next move wisely.

Rimes punched a button on the wall and the silver door bowed outward, forming a ramp. Then he held up two fingers, indicating the standard two by two squad formation.

Tessa stalked forward, side by side with Crowley, and stepped into the darkness of the night. They flicked on their scouting lights, illuminating a five-foot radius out in front of them. The rest of the team followed their lead, with Durchik and Bison escorting the shackled Flanx at the center. Harry took up the rear with Rimes.

Their first task was to secure the landing site - that is, until they were presumably received by a welcoming party.

But after only a few steps, Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. "My god…" he murmured. He raised his rifle and scanned the nearby area as Tessa flashed her light in front of his position. The rest of the team looked on.

"Shit," Durchik said. "They call this an assassination attempt?"

"It's a god-damned bloodbath," Bison muttered.

The scene in front of them was total carnage - a massacre. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some missing limbs, others entire sections. Harry stepped forward, sliding to the side of a dismembered torso. His tracks made prints in the blood-soaked ground.

The entire place dripped with the stench of death.

"Shut up, all of you," Rimes commanded, pushing past Harry's side. "You have a task to accomplish. Do it, now."

The next few minutes passed without a word. Then the all-clear was given.

Rimes turned a dial on his headset. "This is Lieutenant Rimes. We're good, but it ain't pretty down here." He paused for a moment, listening to an unheard response. "No welcoming party - "

There was a rustle of movement up ahead. Harry tensed, twisting his wand through the air, and formed a shield around the group. His teammates sighted their rifles.

"Hold on," Rimes added into his Com.

The rustle turned into the wet, sloppy sound of boots treading through blood. Then out of the darkness emerged two identically dressed soldiers, their hands raised in front of them as an indicator of their unarmed status. Each was encased in a tight-fitting, white bio-suit and over their suits rested black armored plates protecting vital areas: Knee-high boots, gauntlets, and a thick chest piece.

As they came closer, Harry noticed an emblem embroidered upon their chest plates. A circle with a six-pointed star enclosed within. The symbol of the Umojan Protectorate.

Harry also noticed that their presence drew a noticeably negative response from his teammates. Tension reached an all time high as the soldiers closed in on their position.

Rimes stepped to front of the group. No one lowered their weapons and Harry took that as a sign to keep his shield up.

"Lieutenant Rimes," one of the soldiers said, placing his fist over his chest in salute. "I'm Arnest Plint, a member of the Shadowguard. This here is Russell Beil, also a member of the guard." He indicated the other soldier.

"What the hell happened here, Plint," Rimes questioned, his tone suspicious.

Plint glanced around. "I'm afraid to say there was a minor rebellion." Rimes raised his eyes at the word _minor_. "It has been a terrible few hours. Luckily, the uprising was quelled before the group could breach the citadel walls."

At Rimes' silence, Plint continued. "I assure you, Sir, everything is under control. If you'll follow us, Councilman Kang has arranged quarters for your group."

Rimes touched his headset, again receiving orders.

After a moment, another strike team emerged from the _Hyperion. _It was Delta Division. And at it's center, protected on all sides, was Mengsk and Ailin.

Just in front of them, outfitted in a shining set of combat armor and walking under the watchful eye of most of the strike team, was Sarah.

* * *

The trek toward the citadel was unsettling. No one made mention of the blood-soaked trails or the deathly stillness that had woven itself through the streets of Umoja. They simply marched in uniform formation, eyes open and focused, ever-scouting. It was as if to speak their fears would bring them to life. And they were better left dead; dead thoughts needed no council, no reassurances.

Instead, the only comfort anyone seemed to need was the weight of the rifle in their hands, and the soldier to their side.

Every so often, Harry stole glances back at Sarah. Most of the time, he would catch her unaware, staring into the distance or focusing her thoughts. But when their eyes happened to meet, he received a friendly smile in return. It was a childish affair and Harry inwardly mocked himself for it. Still, nothing would change the fact that the girl fascinated him. She could do magic, which meant that magic wasn't dead and he, Harry Potter, hadn't killed it.

He turned his head once more, this time catching whispers.

"I didn't know Umoja had Ghosts?" Harry recognized the voice as Durchik's.

"Not Ghosts, but psychics all the same," came Bison's reply.

"Shadowguards. Ghosts. Same difference."

"Maybe not. Rumor has it they're given more freedom than Confederate Ghosts. Ya'know, no brain-panning, no neural inhibitors, yadi yada."

"Sounds like an uprising waiting to happen, if you ask me," Harry interjected, slowing his pace and falling into step with the two marines.

"Aye," Durchik agreed, unfazed by Harry's sudden addition. "Five cleaning shifts in the armory says they've already killed Jorgensen and we're walking into a doomsday fight."

"C'mon, Durch," Bison scolded. "How can you bet on something like that?"

Durchik shrugged. Harry put out his hand. "Make it ten."

The large marine glanced down warily, as if wondering whether Harry knew something he didn't. Then he smiled and sealed the bet.

Bison looked on, both amused and disgusted. "Mental, the both of ya," he said, shaking his head.

The walls of the main complex rose ahead of them, black as the night sky. Guards walked along the parapets, pacing between crescent-shaped stations that housed mounted artillery. At the center of the complex, stood the hexagonal High Chamber, visible above the high walls.

Plint came to a stop, his eyes losing focus. A moment later he shook his head and the giant gate drew back. Then he ushered the marines into the central courtyard.

No one broke formation. No one loosened their grip of their rifle.

"This is the Inner Cloister," Plint said, gesturing with his hand. "To your right, through those double doors are your arranged quarters. To the south, past the enclosure is the Central Sanctum where the High Council meets. And - Ah, here is Councilman Kang now."

A lone man wearing a thick brown cloak strode toward them, the edges of the fabric trailing along the ground behind him. Kang was average height, about Mengsk's age, and moved with purpose in his steps. His graying hair had been combed to either side, making room for a part down the middle so straight that Harry would have been surprised if it was a single hair off-center.

Plint and Beil raised their hands in salute, then stepped aside.

"Welcome to Umoja," Kang said, gripping Rimes' hand tightly. A split in Delta Division's ranks made way for Mengsk and Ailin, and the councilman greeted them in similar fashion. "I'm sorry we must meet under these unfortunate circumstances, Commander Mengsk. But nonetheless, we are pleased that you were able to make the trip here." Kang looked over Ailin's shoulder and spotted the shackled Flanx. "Quite pleased."

"Likewise, Councilman," Mengsk said, before glancing at Plint. "We were told there was an attempt on the High Council?"

"I'm afraid you heard correctly. Luckily, we were able to force them back, outside the walls."

"A rebellion?"

"So it would seem," Kang said, trading looks with Ailin. "As Ailin can attest to, there has long been a faction amongst our ranks with deep-seated ties to the Confederacy."

Ailin shook his head. "Yes, but -"

"But they've never been a violent movement?" Kang said, finishing Ailin's thought. He gestured beyond the doors of the Citadel, toward the blood-soaked streets they had passed through. "Yes, well, clearly things have changed since you left, my old friend."

Ailin stiffened. "Clearly, they have."

Mengsk narrowed his eyes. Harry noticed that he seemed to shift slightly on his feet, as if he wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation. "Councilman Kang, we've traveled a long way. It would do well for my men to unpack their things and get settled."

"Of course, Commander." Kang motioned for Plint and the guard stepped forward. "Plint, here, will escort your men to their quarters. And if you'll follow me, I'll make arrangements for transferring Dr. Flanx into our custody."

Mengsk nodded, before adding, "I also need to speak with Minister Jorgensen - we have much to discuss."

Kang stopped stiff. He looked up at Mengsk, his complexion turning a little pale as he ran his hand back through his hair. "I'm afraid that's impossible, Commander."

If any words could have drawn the already high tension tighter, Harry didn't know them. As soon as those five words left Kang's mouth, it was as if a bomb had gone off. Rifles were gripped tighter, boots shuffled against the pavement, the silence got noticeably louder.

"What? Why?" Rimes stepped closer and Harry saw his hand twitch toward his pocket. It seemed Kang didn't notice.

"He's quite ill; not to be disturbed. You'll understand if our business is kept amongst ourselves?"

This was it, Harry thought. He watched the veins in Mengsk's neck pulse, saw Sarah tense behind him. Harry wound his hand tighter around his wand, ready for what seemed to be the inevitable showdown.

"No," Mengsk said. "I think _you_ can understand, Councilman, that I'll need to speak directly with the Minister - considering the circumstances we find ourselves in."

Kang scowled. He glanced between Plint and Beil and for a long moment it seemed he would ignore Mengsk's request. Eventually, he gave a long sigh.

"If you insist."

* * *

The central chamber was kept at perma-frost temperatures. Harry thought it felt a little like home, back in London during the war, when the Dementors' sorrow laid like a blanket over the city streets. Those were times of misplaced trust and beaten-down loyalties. Fear, too, had settled over the population, spreading from home to home like a disease. And Harry saw the same signs here in Umoja. Men and women hustled through the chamber, their eyes cast downward, whispers on their lips. The occasional glare told Harry all he needed to know. They weren't trusted here - no one was trusted here. He shrugged his cloak higher, the thick threads rubbing against his neck, and resisted the urge to cast a warming charm.

In the end, the vote had been laid down: Harry would accompany Mengsk for his meeting with Minister Jorgensen, along with Sarah and Ambassador Ailin. Rimes was to come as well, and Harry could only assume it was to keep watch over himself and Kerrigan. After all, Sarah was too fresh a recruit to be left alone, and he and Mengsk were skating a thin line of trust. Besides Ailin, Rimes was the Commander's most trusted man - with the added benefit that he knew his way around a pistol.

The destination was the sick ward - a good ten minute walk from the central chamber. While the main access point had been open and busy, these hallways were tight and eerily vacant. The silence seemed to make Councilman Kang nervous, or maybe just stir-crazy. Whatever the reason, he decided to pass the time by going on, ad nauseam, about the origins of the facility.

"You see, it was originally built as a housing unit for the Shadowguard," he said. "But they scrapped that idea. Something about concerns over the Guard's access to the High Council. Can you believe that?"

Silence. The tension in the air was thicker than the sand back on Vycter 5.

Sarah slipped to the rear of the group and nestled into a spot beside Harry. Her legs seemed less convinced by the second that they could hold her weight.

"Nervous?" Harry said.

"Is it that obvious?"

They shared a brief smile. Harry held up his hand and pinched a bit of air between his thumb and pointer finger. "Maybe a little bit."

"Ugh. Why am I even here?"

"Don't worry. It'll be a quick learning curve - you've done all this before, after all."

Sarah shuddered, flinched.

Damn. He should've known better than to bring up her past. "Sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"It's okay."

A new, deeper silence descended over them. Harry nodded toward Plint and Kang, hoping to change the subject. "Picking anything up?"

Sarah shook her head. "Guess I'm a little rusty."

"That's alright."

"It is weird, though."

"What that?"

"It just… it doesn't feel like I'm being blocked. I reach out, but there's nothing to hold onto."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." She met Harry's eyes. "Normally, there's a huge web of thoughts and I just grab the ones on the surface. With them - well, it's almost like there aren't any surface thoughts at all."

Harry frowned. He didn't like the sound of that one bit. "Maybe that's how they were trained, to empty their minds?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Ahead of them, Kang came to a dead stop and Harry barely caught himself before plowing over Ailin. They were just outside the ward now. The councilman typed a code into a neon keypad on the wall, and the automated door slid open.

"Just for fair warning," he said. "The Minister is not well, he's… a bit off."

If the Minister was 'not well,' Harry didn't want to know what 'on the way out' looked like. Surely, this man in front of him was dying, there was no other word for it. His hair was almost completely gone. Mottled splotches of black and brown colored his scalp, and his face, the palest white, was sunken and ghastly. The skin covering his arms and legs stretched tight over his bones, as if his body had outgrown its flesh. He might as well have been wearing a costume three sizes too small.

But the most striking feature was the eyes; they were the color of urine, gone sour. No white to be seen. They passed over the seven men wrapped around the bed and a thin smile spread over the Minister's features.

"My god," Ailin said. "Minister… what's happened to you?"

"Can't imagine…can't imagine…can't imagine." Jorgensen bit into his lip and started to chew. Blood dribbled down his chin.

"I've seen enough," Mengsk said.

They left the ward. Outside, in the hallway, Jorgensen's shouts echoed off the walls, "theboytheboytheboytheboy!"

* * *

The conference room was sleek and well proportioned, a cluster of chairs mounted into the ground around an oval, finely polished desk.

"You must want answers," Kang said.

After visiting the Minister, Mengsk had requested a private meeting with the Councilman. Now, as they sat alone in the aftermath, answers were only the beginning of what Mengsk wanted.

"For starters, what happened to Jorgensen?"

"Poisoned."

"How? You said they didn't reach the High Council."

"The rebellion was more internal than we thought."

Of course it was. Mengsk sighed and reached into his pocket for a smoke.

"Is he going to die?"

Kang leaned forward. "That depends."

"On?"

"How much this alliance means to you."

Mengsk exhaled a plume of smoke. Could they be trusted? It didn't seem likely. The more important question, he guessed, was whether it was worth the risk?

"Terms?"

"There is a certain resource," Kang said. "Something we've only just discovered. We have the ships, but with the rebellion, we're lacking man power. We could use some able bodies."

"And this resource - it'll cure the Minister?"

"It will. After which," Kang traced his fingers across the desk, "I'm sure he'll be pleased to officially announce our alliance. Together, Commander, we can bring the Confederacy to its knees."

Mengsk took another drag, rubbed his eyes. "You're not giving me much to go on, Councilman."

"No, I guess not. Then again, we're not asking much of you. Just a few men."

"I'll need to speak with my board," Megsk said. He stood up, reached out and shook Kang's hand.

Kang nodded.

"Of course."

* * *

The next morning, Mengsk woke to the blare of his Comlink. He rolled over in bed and checked the time, ready to spit fire.

"It's two a.m., Rimes, this better be good." He heard commotion on the other end of the link.

"Flanx is dead."

Mengsk threw off the covers and sat up. "What? How?"

Static, then, "found him in his cell, looks like he hung himself."

* * *

**A.N. **Better late than never?


	8. Discover

**Disclaimer: **Nothing's mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 8: Discover  
**

* * *

Harry kept his wand just out of sight and glanced around. He had the feeling someone was watching him.

He stood in the middle of the Umojan Bazaar, a string of traders and merchants a couple blocks from the city's center. With the rebellion only a few days old, Harry couldn't believe the streets were as packed as they were. Hundreds of merchants and shoppers lined the walkways, purses out, ready to haggle and threaten their way to cheaper goods. None seemed to care, or even notice, that the ground carried the permanent stain of blood.

But Harry – Harry noticed. And if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was this: he wouldn't end up another smear on the pavement.

Determined to expose his tail, he ducked beneath a merchant stall.

"A little Devil's Dust, my traveling friend?" the trader whispered.

"No."

Harry glanced back toward the street. A lone figure stood at the crossroad halfway up the walk from the stall, hooded head swiveling left and right. A shadowguard? No - not unless they were undercover; he didn't see the Umojan emblem or -

"Some Moon Gas? Perhaps, a vial of Junk Seed?"

Harry ignored the merchant and took off down the street. He needed to get out of the Bazaar; the place held too many people, too many unknowns. If someone wanted him dead, it would be all too easy here. Packed in like a sardine, he'd never see it coming.

He headed, instead, for the access points off the central chamber. They were narrow and quiet - a perfect place to get the jump on his mystery stalker. He took a left, elbowing past a shopper, and darted onto a side street. The high walls of the chamber loomed up in front of him. He ducked inside and settled against the wall of the nearest access shaft, letting the shadows take him.

Then he waited.

A good minute passed, then two, and Harry began to question the level of his paranoia. Was he really being followed? He couldn't be sure. Maybe he should just regroup and -

Suddenly, there were footsteps; whispered curses resounded off the walls; and finally, the cloaked figure appeared. Acting on instinct, Harry reached out, grabbed his pursuer, and forced him against the wall. The impact knocked the hood free and dark eyes blinked up at Harry.

"Tessa? Dammit, I almost blew you away!"

"Ugh," Tessa said, with a wince. She nodded to the wand pressed against her side. "Mind holstering that thing before you hurt yourself?"

Only a few inches separated the two, and Harry could feel her breath - warm and sweet - against his neck. He pocketed his wand. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"There's been some news," Tessa said, "had to track you down."

Harry gestured to his belt. "I have a Comm like everyone else."

"Not anymore you don't. Communications are down. Whole detail's going to Hell in a hand basket."

"What do you mean?"

"Flanx is dead."

"You're kidding."

"No, and Mengsk has been locked up with Kang all day. Some type of business arrangement."

"Figures," Harry said. The corridor was quiet now. If he listened carefully, he could just make out the steady drum of Tessa's heart. _Ba-boom. Ba-boom_. "What does he want from us?"

"Standard guard detail," she said.

Harry laughed. "So much for that R&R."

"C'mon, the guys are waiting."

As they split apart, Harry did his best to ignore the interesting affects Tessa's breathing had on her chest. She was wearing a gray cloak, draped loosely over a tight-fitting, black jump suit. Knee-high boots gave her a few extra inches, but Harry noticed with some satisfaction that she still only reached his chin.

Tessa smoothed out her cloak, then together, they wound their way back through the narrow corridor.

"So what happened to Flanx?" Harry asked.

"I'll explain when we get back," Tessa said.

The corridor opened into the main chamber. Harry glanced around; the place was deserted. A colonnade encircled the massive room, and Harry and Tessa followed the pillars to the entrance. As they moved, light beat down through the glass-plated ceiling, warming the marble heads, and casting shadows along the coffered walls. Harry guessed it was around noon. Had he really spent three hours at the Bazaar? He'd almost forgotten why he'd gone at all.

"Have you seen Hung?" he asked.

"Fixing the Comms I suppose," Tessa said. "Why?"

Harry massaged the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He settled for the truth.

"He snuck out early this morning, that's all. Was wondering if you knew what was up."

Tessa shrugged. "Where'd he go?"

Harry was about to explain how he had followed Hung into the Bazaar, when he spotted the two shadowguards - Plint and Beil - approaching the High Council. The two men, dressed to a tee in their ghost armor, scanned the area, then ran a key-card through a door reader. A side entrance slid open and they ducked inside.

"What do you think they're up to?" Tessa asked.

"No clue," Harry said. "They look a little guilty to you?"

"More than a little bit."

"Good. Let's go." Harry took a step toward the doorway. He was about to take another, when Tessa reached out and grabbed his arm.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"Come on. You're not a bit curious?"

"No way, Harry. That's suicide."

Harry smiled up at her. "Suit yourself," he said, and took off after the two shadowguards. A moment later, he heard a few choice curses behind him, followed by the patter of boots on concrete. "Alright," Tessa called after him. "Dammit, wait up."

With a touch of magic, Harry disabled the key-reader and the door slid open, revealing a narrow corridor. The hallway led into a small enclosure cut-off from the central chamber. Besides a series of murals depicting the Umojan mountain range and a few busts of past Ministers, the room was entirely barren. No shadowguards, no secret meeting, no nothing.

"Alright, you've had your fun," Tessa said. "Now, let's get out of here."

Harry pressed his hands against the walls, half expecting them to slide apart and reveal a secret entrance. "It doesn't make sense, we saw them come in here."

"Maybe we got the wrong room?"

"They definitely went through that door." Harry pulled out his wand and ran it along the walls. "No - they've got to be here somewhere..."

A few minutes passed like this, with no luck. Harry grew frustrated by the lack of progress, Tessa anxious. Then a spark of static broke the silence, as their CommLink's came alive.

"Harry, Tessa. Do you copy?" It was Bison. "Where are you two?"

"I guess Hung fixed them," Tessa said, as she reached for her belt and flipped the switch on her Comm. "We're on our way." She glanced up. "Let's go, Harry. This is a dead end."

"We're missing something, Tessa. We're definitely missing something here."

"Maybe. But right now, we're chasing our tails. And we're overdue back at the barracks."

Harry let out a heavy sigh. He took one last look around the room, before pocketing his wand. "Yeah, alright."

* * *

"He hung himself?"

"That's the word, yeah."

Harry gave Tessa a long look, before forcing another spoonful of the semi-liquid meal down his throat; he grimaced as his taste buds rioted. Across the table, Durchik snickered into his pudding. Harry figured it was due to the look of disgust he must have been wearing, but then again Durchik was Durchik. It was just as likely the beefy man was laughing about the hanging.

The mess halls of the Barracks weren't half bad. Thirteen rows of long tables, twenty-four-seven access, separate quarters from the local soldiers. No, Umoja had certainly done them a service. Everything was pristine and well tended. Everything, except the food, of course. It was times like these when Harry really hated Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration.

Finished with his meal, he dropped his spoon and watched it sink to the bottom of his plate.

"So, you're telling me that a guy with one hand hung himself?" Harry glanced between Tessa, Bison, and Durchik. "None of you find that suspicious?"

Bison shrugged. "He _was_ a resourceful bastard."

"If he had the willpower, it wouldn't be impossible," Tessa added.

"Okay, let's say he did manage it," Harry said. "What exactly was he running from?"

"Lifetime imprisonment?"

Harry shook his head. "Flanx was smart, he would've claimed the Confederacy forced his hand on Vycter 5. Besides, the High Council wanted him back - badly. I doubt they went to all this trouble just to lock him up."

"Maybe..." Tessa said, but Harry could tell he had won her over. He leaned forward in his seat, and beckoned the others closer.

"There's something weird going on here, I know you guys feel it too. And no matter how you look at it, Flanx is the key. We figure out why the High Council wanted him back, and we blow this whole thing wide open."

"Harry, Mengsk will never allow it," Bison said. "The alliance is too important."

Tessa nodded. "Bison's right. Mengsk won't let us do anything that could jeopardize his standing here."

"Then we do it on our own time," Harry said. "Without Mengsk or Rimes finding out."

"Harry..."

"What, you only do what you're told? Besides, this is important guys, you know it is."

A brief silence took hold. Then, out of the blue, Durchik spoke up.

"Maybe he wasn't ambidextrous."

All three heads turned to stare at the large marine. When he simply continued to shovel food into his mouth, Tessa said, "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Durchik looked up from his plate and shrugged. "If I couldn't beat off properly, I might kill myself too."

* * *

That night, Harry climbed through his window and dropped the five feet down to the metal railing below. Part of the Catwalk system, as the crew called it, the railing ran the perimeter of the barracks, where it joined with a series of cross-hatched sky-bridges. The system formed a web of walkways suspended above the city streets - a defense grid connecting the barracks and the armory to the multiple guard towers positioned around the city walls.

Most of the commerce buildings were also connected to the Catwalk. In fact, Harry reasoned that the only building not bound in some way was the High Council, whose mighty walls loomed over the rest of the city like a mother over her sleeping children.

Harry rapped his head with his wand, feeling the familiar sensation of the disillusion spell. His shift had ended over three hours ago, but he knew Tessa would be out there, walking the post. After their talk in the mess hall, they'd arranged to meet when security was at its thinnest. And for better or worse, that time was now - three a.m.

Harry found her on a walkway close to the city's edge. He thought she cut quite a figure against the pale moonlight, her dark hair falling around her eyes, as she leaned well over the rails.

Deciding to have a little fun, Harry silenced the area, cast a Notice-Me-Not spell, and snuck up behind her. Then, standing beside her, he said, "nice view."

And it really was. The city streets lay below, a grid of flashing neon lights. They were still now, the storefronts having closed many hours ago, but the night was far from quiet. The Umojan jungles lay just outside the walls and their insectoid buzz drowned the silence of the city in the sounds of life.

But Harry had little time to process these things; what had started out as a joke quickly turned sour. Tessa, in her shock, lost her grip on the guard rail and Harry watched in horror as her feet lifted off the ground, her back arching further over the rail. He heard her cry out in surprise, saw her grasp for support and find only air. And, just as it looked like she might be lost amongst the neon glow of the empty streets, Harry leapt forward and grabbed her by the legs, pulling her back onto the walkway.

They collapsed there, together, Harry on his back, Tessa pressed against his chest. For a long moment, no one said a word. Harry felt the blood pounding in his head. He waiting, knowing that any minute, Tessa would pry herself off him, pull herself to her feet, and tear him a new one.

So he was more than a little surprised when he felt a hum against his chest. At first, it was just a flutter, a burst of noise, but then it rose into a steady beat, and Harry realized with disbelief that she was laughing. Tessa was laughing. And, as if it were some disease to be caught, he started in too, unable to control himself.

They lay like that, laughing themselves hoarse, until eventually Tessa pulled herself up and pressed her back against the guard rail. Harry propped his head up on his hands and glanced up at her, smiling.

"You're an asshole," Tessa said, but the soft chuckle that escaped her lips betrayed her.

At a few hundred feet, the wind was a blistering mess. It whistled through the metal fixtures of the Skywalk, producing a steady tune to match the buzz of the jungle. Harry let out a quiet laugh, which was lost amongst the noise, then, feeling the mood shift, turned to the business at hand.

"So, what do we got?" he asked, propping himself up against the opposite rail.

"Bison's in," Tessa said. "Same with Durchik and Hung."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "Hung's in? Really?" He thought back to before they had landed on this rock, to the data disc the marine had refused to decode. After the bioplagues, Harry knew the Sons of Khoral were the only family the kid had left. Hung had refused to risk it then, why was he willing to do so now?

Tessa laughed. "I believe his exact words were: 'I'm fucking in it to win it.'"

"Huh."

"After which -" Tessa reached into her jacket and withdrew a manilla envelope, "- he gave me this."

"What is it?" Harry asked. He took it and leafed through the first few pages, ignoring the red, bolded text printed across the cover: CONFIDENTIAL. On page one, in the top left corner, sat a thumbnail of Flanx.

"Name, date of birth, list of aliases..." Harry muttered, running his finger down the page, "this is Flanx's file."

"Bingo."

Without looking up from the document, Harry asked, "how?"

"Apparently Hung's a better hacker than we thought." Tessa moved to Harry's side and pointed to the bottom of the second page - a list of Flanx's research. "Look."

"The Cutting Edge of Vespene Gas Refinery; Thorium at 30,000 Degrees; The Hazards of Chemical Exposure? Is this a joke?"

"Covers, more like. At least, we think so."

Harry turned the page and skimmed the dates. "They just stop here: 2487; there's no description or anything. Is that when he was conscripted by the Confederacy?"

Tessa shook her head. "Two years before, actually."

"And I'm guessing the time in between is conspicuously absent from this file?"

"You got it."

Harry closed the envelope and handed it back to Tessa. "So what do we do now?"

"Hung thinks the research is backed up on the mainframe, so if we're serious about this thing -" she looked up at Harry, as if expecting him to finally acknowledge the insanity of it all "-the way forward is to get those files."

Harry nodded. "Where's the mainframe?"

"That's the thing." Tessa reopened the file and pointed to a research listing - one of the last ones to be included in the document.

"Project Shadowfox," Harry whispered. "You think...?"

"It's as good a lead as any," Tessa said.

Harry leaned his head against the rails, feeling the cool metal on his scalp. He hoped it would clear his mind. Were they really considering breaking into the Shadowguard Facility? Just the thought of it was enough to make him shiver. These were ghosts, after all; they wouldn't be fooled by a few flicks of the wand. And there was no telling the level of their abilities.

"That'll take serious planning, especially if we want to get in and out without a trace."

Tessa turned so that her legs dangled off the edge of the walkway. "Which is why we have to be absolutely sure it's the right move." She turned her head to look back at Harry. "We should lay low for now, see what happens in the meantime."

"Yeah... maybe."

"No, not 'maybe.' We've got to play this one close to the hip. You know I'm right."

Harry nodded, perhaps unconvincingly, because Tessa added, "Besides, the Umojan mystery shipment is coming in tonight. Might give us some clue as to what exactly's going on around here."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of orders and cheap talk. When he wasn't on duty, shooting the shit with Tessa and the crew, Harry spent most of his time trying to track down Hung. He had hoped the kid would be able to scrounge up more information on the Shadowguard, but ever since he had given Tessa Flanx's file, Hung had turned a vapor. Either he didn't want to be found, or more specifically, didn't want to be found by Harry. In any case, he proved competent in covering his trail.

And he wasn't the only one. With Flanx's death, and in preparation for the cargo shipment, Mengsk was now doubly cautious. His personal guard - Rimes, Crowley, and Sarah - had become his second shadow, never leaving his side.

Sarah was the X-factor. Harry knew it the moment he had felt her magic and Mengsk knew it too. The Commander was grooming her, using her past as a whipping stick, shaming her into obedience. And while she was vulnerable, Mengsk would mold her however he saw fit. It made getting her alone nearly impossible.

So Harry bided his time. Everyone, it seemed, was coming out of the woodwork for the arrival of the shipment - Mengsk and his guard included. At half-past nine, the landing docks were the place to be.

Tessa was already there when Harry arrived.

"You're early," she said from behind a pair of binoculars. She stood a few hundred yards from the landing zone, in position on one of the skywalks. The wind tossed her hair every which way.

Harry grunted in reply. He reached out and Tessa passed him the binoculars. "Any movement?"

"Nothing yet. You find Hung?"

"No," Harry said, zooming in on the dock. He spotted the flashing landing lights and the guard detail on the empty strip. Two dome-shaped hangers, the ones closest to the High Council, were open and empty. Nothing stood out as unusual. He passed the binocular back to Tessa. "Kid's a ghost."

"Speaking of." Tessa gestured to a line of bodies now approaching the docking bay. "Our two favorite shadowguards are leading the procession."

"No surprise there. Any sign of Mengsk?""

Tessa nodded. "Back of the lineup."

"What about -"

Commotion on the walkway cut Harry off. He turned to see two men sprinting up the landing, running full tilt toward their position.

"Are they -"

"Racing?" Tessa said, dropping the binoculars to her waist. "Yeah, looks that way."

Durchik seemed to be winning, his huge arms pumping furiously, but as they rounded the last bend, Bison cut in front, tripping the hulking marine. Durchik shouted, "cheater," as he fell to his knees, sparks grinding off his pads. Bison laughed and punched the air victoriously, then skidded to a stop just in front of Harry and Tessa.

"We miss anything?" he asked, his question one great wheeze.

"Cheater!"

Harry laughed. "Right on time."

"Really right on time," Tessa added, passing the binoculars back to Harry. She pointed toward the horizon just as a burst of noise broke across their eardrums. Twin cargo ships dropped through the cloud cover, wisps of vapor clinging to their hulls. Shaped like a beer bottle and outfitted with a standard triple wing structure, each ship was capable of carrying two siege tanks and a squad of marines within its belly. But Harry didn't care about the numbers. How much they were carrying wasn't of concern; all he cared about - all anyone cared about - was _what_ they were carrying.

Durchik pulled himself up off the ground and joined them against the railing. He gave Bison a quick shove, which set into motion an exchange of heaves and pushes that Tessa was forced to break up.

Harry heard her say, "how old are you two?" as he raised the binoculars to his eyes. With a groan audible from where they stood, the first cargo ship touched down, its shock absorbers sending it bouncing to a stop on the black tarmac. When the dust settled, a flashing light above the rear of the craft turned green and the massive door opened outward. Inside, Harry saw someone rolling a great steel canister across the floor.

"Anything interesting?" Tessa asked.

"Nothing, just -" A flicker of light caught Harry's attention. He refocused the binoculars and zoomed in on the cargo door. Just underneath it, hidden in the shadows, a metal grating wobbled in place.

"Harry?"

Harry lowered the binoculars and shook his head. "It's nothing, just thought I saw something."

The squeal of burnt rubber signaled the landing of the second cargo ship. It bounded to a stop a few meters behind the first and a squad of shadowguards ran out to secure the entire perimeter.

They had barely reached the hanger when the first ship exploded in a blaze of fire and shrapnel.

* * *

Chaos.

A fireball of charred debris shot high into the atmosphere, a brilliant mix of reds, yellows, and purples. Color enough to match the neon glow of the city streets. On the ground, plumes of thick black smoke billowed out like a skirt, covering the area in a noxious darkness. Shockwaves tore up the tarmac. Military personnel and the rest of the onlookers scampered for cover, but the shadowguards -

They were too close to the blast point.

Harry's hands tensed on the binoculars as he watched the first few guards take the brunt of the blast. Their suits, while enough to protect them from the flames, could do nothing against the searing heat. If Harry had been closer, he might have seen their faces, streaked with the final moments of agony, melt beneath their visors. As it was, he thought he could almost hear their screams as they were cooked alive, trapped within their superheated suits.

The binoculars slipped through his fingers. Without a seconds thought, he shouted, "Grab onto me!"

"Wha -"

"Now!"

He felt three hands grasp hold of his arm and shoulder: two thick, one reasonably dainty. Then, reaching into his cloak and wrapping his fingers around his wand, he said, "don't let go until we're there."

"Until we're wheeeeeeeerreeee!" Bison shouted, as the world he knew disappeared around him.

For Harry, it was the blink of an eye. One moment, he stood on the Catwalk, a few hundred yards from the chaos. The next, it was all laid out before him. He felt the heat on his face, heard the cries of the wounded, saw the deployment of the fire teams and the scrambling of the rest of the shadowguard. Being in the thick of it made all the difference in the world.

Beside him, his teammates struggled to their feet. Durchik looked like he might be sick.

"What the hell was that?" he shouted over the noise, slightly gagging on a cocktail of smoke and stomach acid.

"Don't worry about it, we've got work to -"

Harry heard the gunshot at the same time the bullet grazed his side. A thin line of blood pooled beneath his cloak. He threw himself to the ground, pulling his teammates down with him, and cast a makeshift shield. The tarmac was torn up and they crawled behind a pile of rubble, making sure to keep their heads low.

"Those fuckers fired on us!" Durchik shouted.

"The shadowguard?" Harry asked, pressing his back against the rubble. With a wince of pain, he ran his wand across the gunshot, sealing the wound as best he could.

Tessa eyed him carefully, then peeked her head over the rocks. "No, I don't think so."

"What?" Bison said.

"It must be...it must be the rebels. They're piling out of a hole in the tarmac."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, a force of rebels was emerging from a drainage shaft below the tarmac. Armed to the teeth and dressed haphazardly, they laid down suppressive fire on a group of shadowguards who had taken shelter behind the hangers. Harry spotted another force of rebels approaching the wreckage of the second cargo ship, explosives in hand. He ducked back behind the rocks.

"Damn, they're going for the shipment."

"What do we do?" Tessa said, pulling a pistol from her belt. "I mean, whose side are we on, exactly?"

Despite the situation, Harry laughed. "For now, Umoja, but try not to kill the rebels. For some reason, they really want that cargo destroyed, and we need to know why."

Harry stood up, a newly forged shield deflecting incoming gunfire. "And whatever you do," he said, stunning one of the rebels mid-stride, "don't get yourselves killed."

Then he was running. In some part of his mind, Harry heard Tessa squeeze off a wild salvo of gunfire, saw the shadowguards pulling their injured to safety, but he zoned it out, focusing his magic. Three more streaks of red left his wand and the rebel forces continued to thin.

Beside him, Plint and Beil strode forward, encased in swirling domes of purple energy. They had survived the blast and Harry barely had time to wonder how, before another round of gunfire echoed in the night air. For a split second, Harry saw the shooter's mouth twitch upward. Surely, this man had won: his aim was true, his targets wide open and exposed. But the bullets glanced off Harry's shield and shattered against the crackling energies surrounding Plint and Beil.

There was an instant's pause, then everything happened at once.

Assault rifles flew out of the hands of the remaining five rebels, leaping thirty feet across the tarmac, past Plint and Beil and onto the ground in front of Harry's feet. The soldiers' shock at having their weapons stolen by invisible hands provided the window the rest of the shadowguard needed. They raced forward, rifles raised, yelling, "freeze, or we'll fire!"

But the rebels were already moving. With barely a backwards glance, they dove for the drainage shaft, abandoning the rest of their men in the process. Harry managed to stun one and the shadowguard clipped another in the knee. The others slipped below, into the darkness.

Plint wasted no time. He shouted, "after them!" and part of the guard dropped down the shaft; the remaining few created a perimeter around the second cargo ship.

Behind it, using the wreckage as cover, was the last vestige of the rebel force.

Beil stepped forward. "It's over, you've nowhere to run. Surrender now and you will not be harmed."

Laughter. A ragged looking man crept out from behind the ship, arms raised. He wore tan and brown camo pants, a bullet proof vest, and a shoulder sling that carried a lone sidearm. Hair sandy-blonde, it crept down over his dark blue eyes. His smile was almost frightening.

"You see this -" he said, shaking his right hand. Clenched within his grip was some type of device. "-I press this trigger and you can say goodbye to your precious cargo." He laughed again, a throaty-gurgle. "So, here's what's gonna happen. First -"

Harry didn't get to hear what was going to happen first. Instead, he watched as Beil raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Purple energy arced between his digits. Fifty-feet away, the trigger shattered in the rebel's grip. Then, faster than Harry had ever seen a man move, the shadowguard slipped a pistol from his harness, snapped it forward and squeezed the trigger. The gun discharged in a flash, the bullet barreling through the rebels skull, painting the wreckage behind him in a faint red mist.

Witnessing this, the remaining two rebels dropped their rifles and raised their hands. One of them, Harry noticed - a wiry lance of a boy - couldn't have been older than eighteen. The other, a shambling husk, might have been his father. Slowly, they stepped from behind the debris. "Don't shoot!" they repeated, "we're unarmed, please don't shoot!"

"On your knees," Plint commanded. "Hands above your head."

"Please," the boy sputtered, dropping to the ground. He looked up, tears in his eyes. "Please, don't."

"Shut yer mouth, kid," the older rebel muttered.

Plint kicked the man hard in the stomach, then turned back to the boy. "What's your name, son?"

"Mi...ll..oo."

"Not to worry, Milo," Plint said, ruffling the boy's hair. "It's all done with now."

"Thank you...thank you..."

Harry saw it too late. He cried out, "no!" as Plint raised his pistol and discharged it twice, point blank. A bullet for each rebel. The bodies sagged to the ground, lifeless.

Before Harry knew it, he was apparating. With a crack, he appeared next to Plint, grabbed the shadowguard by the collar of his armor, and threw him against the cargo ship.

"You son of a bitch! They were unarmed -" Harry looked down at the body of the boy. "- he was just a kid, dammit!"

_Click._

Behind him, Harry heard the sound of twenty rifles leveled at his head.

"They were traitors," Plint spat. "Nothing more than scum." For a moment, Harry thought the guard's eyes flashed yellow. But an instant later, they were clear and glancing at the soldiers behind Harry. "You'd do well to remember your place, psychic." Plint emphasized the last word, smiled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Tessa, Durchik and Bison. They stood behind the shadowguards, each with their rifles leveled at one of the soldiers. Harry's lips twitched into a small smile.

Slowly, he let go of Plint's collar and stepped back. The tension in the air lessened noticeably; the soldiers lowered their weapons. Plint smirked, shouldered past Harry, and began dictating commands to the rest of the guard.

Harry walked over to his teammates.

"You're gonna get it now," Tessa said.

"Yeah, from you?"

Bison laughed. "No, hoss. From him."

Harry followed Bison's gesture and saw Mengsk heading their way, Sarah, Rimes and Crowley in tow.

"He looks pleased," Harry said.

"Want us to stay?" Tessa asked.

"Nah, it's alright. I can handle Mengsk."

Durchik raised a meaty paw and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Sucks. I've got dibs on your dinner."

* * *

An hour later, Harry cut through the city streets on his way back to the barracks. Realizing his dinner was likely long gone, he wandered into the bazaar, hoping to catch one of the food stalls before it closed.

As he rounded a corner, shielding his eyes from the neon glare, he stopped dead. Up ahead, tucked away in the shadows of an alley and bickering with a stallholder, was Hung.

* * *

**A.N.** Let me know what you think. I'd never hold a story hostage, but reviews really do help me stay motivated. Thanks.


	9. Experience

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

* * *

13th Stepping

**Chapter 9: Experience**

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Harry muttered.

He spelled himself with a Notice-Me-Not charm and hurried down the cobbled street. Overhead, a string of ancient fixtures dangled from the Catwalk, bathing the area in less-than-reliable light. Boarded-up storefronts flickered in and out of view. Broken glass lined the walkways; wrought iron bars, tipped to a point, guarded the merchant stalls. Harry side-stepped a pot hole and caught a glimmer from the nearest alley. Two white globes peered out of the darkness, bulging under the influence of some street pill. The whole area reeked of poverty and disuse.

Harry hurried past the alley. He was close enough now to hear the merchant whisper: "two-hundred paynes."

Hung fumbled around in his cloak, then withdrew a string-drawn purse. He held it to his ear and shook it, feigning the ability to tell the amount from the clink it gave off. Beside him, the merchant wrung his hands greedily.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry said, as he dispelled the Notice-Me-Not charm.

Hung screamed, "Wha -Ahhh!" He took a few sluggish steps backward and tripped over his own feet. As he fell, a glass canister slipped from his pocket. For a moment, it hung in the air, sparkling under the lights. Then it crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces and releasing a plume of gray powder. Hung screamed again - this time, in equal parts agony and horror. He threw himself forward and raked his hands across the ground, uncaring of the glass cutting into his skin.

Harry watched in disbelief. "What is this..." he said softly, then, feeling a sudden surge of anger, "what the hell is this!" He turned on the merchant, but the man was long gone, having slipped into the shadows at opportunity's first call.

"Harry," Hung said, hunched over a newly collected pile of dust. He held up his hands, blood streaking down his wrists. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

Harry knelt down beside the kid, reached out and touched a finger to the powder. "What is this stuff?"

"Dev...vil's Dust."

Harry recognized the name; a merchant had offered him the same stuff his first day in the Bazaar. He guessed it was some type of stimulant, but when he tried to ask Hung what it did, all the kid would say was, "it helps."

Harry didn't doubt it.

Before they had landed on Umoja, the Bioplagues had taken everything from Hung. Family, friends, home - nothing had survived the Confederacy's extermination of the fringe worlds. While Hung had seemingly taken the loss well - as well as anyone could - here was proof that things weren't always what they seemed.

"C'mon," Harry said, helping Hung to his feet. "I'm getting you out of here."

* * *

Harry watched Hung slump against the front of a ramshackled marketplace, his legs beginning to tremble. While the collapsed roof made it clear that the market had long since closed, the stench of rotten fish still lingered on the air, stinging their nostrils and threatening a wave of nausea.

They had made it several blocks, but Hung was fading quickly. Harry didn't know if it was withdrawal, or something far more sinister at work. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't good. He toyed with the idea of apparating, but hesitated; he couldn't be sure how Hung's body might react to the stress.

No. Better to try and reach the med bay, Harry decided. Housed within the high chamber, it was closer than the Barracks. And if it came to it, he could pull out a few tricks along the way.

So they kept moving.

Block after block flew by, and in their wake, so too did the dreary underbelly of the city. Boarded up storefronts and rundown streets fell by the wayside, replaced by the glow of newly-paved cement and the smell of civilization - the flourishing Umoja to which Harry was accustomed.

And rising well above the city streets - the walls of the high council. The steps were only a few blocks away now.

Harry propped Hung up, wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulder, and hustled forward. They rounded the last street corner and froze.

"Isn't that -" Hung began, but Harry was already moving. He pulled Hung back around the corner and plastered him to the wall. Then he raised one finger to his mouth, giving the jive for silence. Hung bit his lip. Rough torrents of wind whistled on the air; boots squeaked against concrete. There was no sign that they had been seen. Keeping his hand pressed against Hung's chest, Harry glanced around the corner.

His eyes had not been playing tricks. It was Sarah, and she had company: a full regiment of shadowguards, heading toward the high council.

Several of the guards carried a large steel drum between them, struggling under its weight. While mostly metal, part of the drum's casing appeared to be glass-plated. Harry strained his eyes. He could just make out a skull and bones drawn in red ink and a flicker of something purple from within.

The rest of the men had arranged themselves in a defensive formation, guarding the route between their current position and a side entrance, which was open.

Harry blinked. He couldn't believe his luck. It was the side entrance, the same one he and Tessa had discovered just the other day - the one in which the guards had simply disappeared. The mystery of it all was killing him. Suddenly, Harry was very interested in connecting all the pieces.

He ducked back behind the corner, his mind already spinning through a whirlwind of scenarios and tactics. He knew he'd have to be quick, in and out, if he didn't want to leave a trace. The guards would...

Hung. Damn, how had he forgotten about Hung? There wasn't enough time to drop him at the med-bay; Harry would miss his opening with the guards. And he couldn't let the kid out of his sight, not after everything he had just witnessed. No, there was really only one option left.

Harry turned back to Hung, who was leaning against the wall, panting. "Really hate to do this to you, buddy, but something's come up. Think you can manage it?"

"Yeah. I'm feeling better, honest."

Harry almost shrugged off the reply, assuming false bravado. But then he got a good look at the kid. He really did look better. Color had returned to his cheeks and he seemed to stand a little straighter, shoulders pulled back, head held high. His thin eyes almost sparkled.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to comment on this bizarre change when commotion around the corner drew his attention. The regiment was moving, passing through the entrance. Time was up; the interrogation would have to wait.

"C'mon," Harry said, dragging Hung by the arm. "You're coming with me."

They snuck around the corner and headed for cover behind the marble steps of the high council. It was a good vantage point. Crouched behind the steps, Harry had a perfect line of sight on the side entrance. He waited until all the shadowguards had passed through, before moving to the doorway himself.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Hung said, as Harry drew his wand across the key-reader. The light turned green and the door slid open.

Harry looked between the exposed hallway and Hung and shrugged. "No, not really."

"Oh, good. Well, at least that's reassuring."

Harry flicked his wand and wrapped them in a layer of magic. Having witnessed the feats of Plint and Beil, he wasn't sure how effective his spells would be, but he figured it was worth a shot. At the very least, it was better than nothing.

He stepped through the doorway and, together with Hung, crept down the narrow corridor. As they neared the small enclosure at the end of the hall, they heard chatter.

"These orders are from Commander Mengsk?" came a soft, feminine voice. Harry recognized the silvery tone; it was Sarah.

"Yes, ma'am. Directly."

"I was just with him, he didn't mention anything like this."

"He was called into meeting with the Minister. These were last minute orders."

Harry could hear the hesitation in Sarah's voice, "alright."

A low whine filled the room, followed by the metallic grinding of a crank shaft. Harry chanced a peek. Sarah and the rest of the guard were gone. But what caught his attention was the spiral staircase that stood exposed in the center of the room. It was retracting, and with each second that passed, fewer stairs remained above the wooden flooring.

Harry made a split-second decision. He grabbed Hung by the arm and raced across the room. Only four steps remained above ground. Harry tripped Hung, and together, they slid into the rapidly shrinking space. The top step clipped Harry's hair as he squeezed through by mere inches. Hung slid in beside him.

Above them, the staircase sealed itself against the wooden floorboards. A slight pop echoed down the underground tunnel beneath them and then their was silence.

* * *

"Umph, geddofferme," came Hung's muffled cry from beneath the two-man dog pile.

Harry hoisted himself up using a nearby side rail for purchase. The passageway that opened up before them was long and slender, just wide enough for two men to walk in tandem. Light cascaded from the ceiling, illuminating plumes of gas that oozed from cracks among the bedrock, as if the place were alive and breathing. A string of lights, each held in place by an occasional, hand-driven nail, hung precariously overhead. They disappeared from sight twenty yards away as the path took a sharp left into the unknown.

Harry grasped Hung's hand and pulled the kid to his feet. He inclined his head toward the pathway. "Well, shall we?"

Hung brushed himself off and nodded in agreement. He seemed perfectly fine now - back to normal - as if the scene at the marketplace some twenty minutes before had simply never happened. Harry did his best not to think about. It made him more uneasy than he cared to admit.

They crept quietly toward the bend, the tension in the air enough to hold their silence. Harry shrugged his cloak higher. There was a chill here too, he thought, seeping into the ground and the walls. With each step, the air seemed tighter, somehow colder - harder to breathe.

Hung must have sensed it too. He sucked in a draft, gasped and smothered a would-be cough with the palm of his hand. Harry spared him a moments glance. Was it the gas? He couldn't be sure. He grasped his wand and sewed a spell into their gear and clothing, layering the magic. If at nothing else, it would keep their air pure.

Harry crept up to the edge of the bend in the pathway, pressed his back to the wall and glanced around the corner.

No shadowguards. Just a large, circular, steel-plated entrance with no way around.

"That's one very large door," Hung said, creeping out from behind cover. He walked up and traced his hand along the metal seams.

Harry motioned toward the console - a flash of vibrant color rebelling against the dim light of the tunnel. "What do you think?"

"Can't you just work your magic?"

Harry whipped his head toward Hung, taken aback by the turn of phrase. "It's..." He stopped, realizing the innocence of the statement, and a thin, half smile brushed his lips. "I don't know if our friends in there can pick up on my energy, but I'd rather not tip them off if we can help it."

Hung nodded. "I'll see what I can do. But, I can't make any -"

A scream echoed from behind the door. Then came the gunfire.

Harry and Hung traded looks, a silent understanding passing between them. Hung took cover behind the bend, as Harry stepped back and leveled his wand at the door console.

For a split second, the end of the tunnel exploded in brilliant white light. The console took the brunt of the blast, leaving a hole of charred metal in its place.

Harry didn't wait for the sparks to clear. The massive door flung open on its hinges, giving off a small thunderclap for its effort, and he stalked through the opening, channeling his magic. A full-sized, two story laboratory came into view, and with it, a full regiment of shadowguards.

"Ah, Harry. Glad you could make it."

The clank of steel on metal echoed amidst the laughter from the guards. Harry glanced up and saw Plint, enveloped in his battle armor, descending from a spiral staircase above. The soldier casually waved his hand. Harry felt a heavy draft against his back and he whirled around just in time to catch the vacant look on Hung's face before the massive door swung shut between them.

He was trapped, but Hung was on the outside. Harry just hoped the kid had enough sense to find Tessa and the rest of the crew.

_Clank, clank, clank._

Harry adjusted his stance, taking stock of his surroundings as the ring of shadowguards fanned out in front of him.

The laboratory was massive. A haphazard series of tubes interconnected rows of massive ballast tanks, each filled to the brim with a frothy, noxious liquid. Towers of buzzing electronics oversaw the production. They extended to the ceiling, where a criss-cross of ventilation shafts and piping ran overhead. Harry followed them with his eyes. At the back of the room, an open expanse spread out in a half-circle, occupied by three large glass cylinders.

There, in the middle cylinder, stood a lone, familiar figure. She was unconscious, slumped against metal restraints. And beside her, just outside the glass, sat a steel, barrel drum - the same one Harry has seen the shadowguards carrying. It glowed with a faint, purple light.

"Sarah..." Harry whispered. The weight of his magic felt heavy on his skin, itching to break free. He looked up and locked eyes with Plint.

The shadowguard smiled.

"Seize him."

* * *

Harry lunged to the side, throwing himself behind an array of electronics just as a clash of gunfire rang out overhead. A second round peppered his hiding spot, murdering some wires and motherboards. He was pinned down. Slowly, the echoes of gunfire died down, replaced by the thump of combat boots. The shadowguards shifted positions, trying to stay one step ahead of their target.

Unfortunately for them, Harry was done playing games.

He dipped into his magic, feeling it arc along his body, reverberating just beneath his skin. The time was now. In an instant, he was on his feet, hair standing on end, as he threw his arms out and simply let go. A concussive wave of magic exploded outward, disarming four of the nearest soldiers and sending them crashing to their feet, unconscious.

Two more approached from behind, guns hot in their hands, fingers heavy on their triggers.

Harry didn't blink. He spun on his heels and whipped his wand forward, wrenching a metal railing free from the staircase. It tore through the air, just as their gunfire blasted an invisible barrier, falling to the ground inches in front of Harry.

The railing struck one of the guards mid-stride, impaling him through the chest, before embedding in the wall of the laboratory. Harry watched as the soldier slumped forward against the metal, feet limp, dangling ten feet off the ground.

The other shadowguard didn't miss a beat. He closed the distance fast, coming within arms reach before Harry could fully react. With quickened reflexes, he drew a dagger from his belt and made to strike.

Harry brought his wand up, the tip glowing with crackling blue flame, but he was a split-second too late. The dagger tore through his armor, jamming itself up to the hilt into his shoulder. Harry ground his teeth and let out a muffled cry.

The shadowguard smiled, his breath toxic as it wafted over Harry. He dug the blade deeper.

Harry half-grimaced, half-smiled. A throaty laugh escaped between clenched teeth.

Confusion washed over the shadowguard's face. Just as quickly, it turned to horror as he glanced down at the wand now flesh against his stomach.

_Boom_, Harry thought. The magic burst forth, enveloping the soldier in a flash of blinding light. Harry dropped to a knee, tearing the dagger from his shoulder, as he ducked down behind his cloak.

The guard took an unsteady step backward, his frantic gaze searching the room for help, before exploding in a cloud of gore.

Silence swept over the room, broken only by the patter of flesh and blood as it dripped from the walls.

Then someone was clapping. "I must say, Tamiel was right. You'll be an excellent addition."

Slowly, Harry got to his feet, tossing his blood-drenched cloak to the ground. Ahead of him, Plint stood behind the unconscious bodies of the four remaining shadowguards. He smiled at Harry, and with an errant flick of his wrist, casually rolled the guards out of his way. "Useless things," he said, dryly. "Oh well."

Harry kept his distance. He wasn't sure what was going on here, but he did know one thing - whatever Plint was, he wasn't a normal shadowguard. Harry ran his wand over his shoulder, closing the wound and numbing the pain. He'd need all the strength he could muster if he was going to walk away from this.

"What are you?"

Plint shrugged. "Why don't we up the stakes?" He snapped his fingers and the electronics in the room buzzed to life. One of the ballast tanks along the back wall kicked into gear, venting purple fumes into a stretch of tubing. Harry saw it too late. He watched in horror as the gas wound its way toward the back of the room, toward the gas cylinders - toward Sarah.

"What the hell are you playing at, Plint?"

"I give her, oh... fifteen minutes."

"Until what?"

"Until she's reborn."

Whatever the hell that meant, Harry wasn't going to wait to find out. He jabbed his wand forward, magic already forming on his lips. One moment, his line of sight was clear. Then, suddenly, in a blur of color, Plint was there, standing in front of him, arms outstretched and palms glowing. Harry never saw him move.

He smiled up at Harry and cocked his head to the side. "Two can play at that game."

Harry took the full brunt of the attack in the chest, the force of the blast enough to shatter his shield and knock him to his knees. He rolled to the side, avoiding another jet of crackling blue energy, and clamored to his feet. A third pulse lanced toward him, but Harry was ready this time. He sidestepped it, whipped his wand forward, and sent a sickly-green jet streaming toward Plint.

The soldier reached out and summoned a desk into the path of the blast. He ducked back behind the explosion of charred metal and pressed his palm to his chest plate. His armor flickered with arcs of electricity. He spun to the side and, in an instant, vanished from sight.

Invisibility, fun.

Harry backpedaled. He twirled his wand overhead like a lasso and summoned a ring of white-hot fire around his position. The flames blazed to life, licking at his heels and boiling the blood that still covered the flooring. He spread his arms and the ring spread outward, expanding away from his position.

It caught movement to his right and Harry turned a moment too late. A three-tailed whip of solid blue energy flashed through the air. It tore through Harry's shield with violent ease, catching him above his right eye. The smell of burnt flesh was all-consuming. He cried out in pain as the whip slashed downward, racing across his upper cheek.

Dazed, Harry stumbled backward. A flash of blue streaked across his vision. The blast struck him on the chest, rocketing him backward across the floor. He skidded to a stop at the other end of the laboratory, his back flesh against the wall. He tried to breath, but his breath caught and he coughed up blood.

"You can't win, Harry."

Plint reappeared, tiny flashes of electricity swimming over his battle suit. "It's time to let go. We can make you better, stronger, faster. You'll be a god among men."

Harry tried for a laugh and winced in pain. "Like you?" He looked past Plint. Sarah's tank was filling with that purple gas. Time was running out.

"Like my master."

"That's good. Give him a message for me, will you?"

Plint cocked his head to side, clearly amused. "Hmmm?"

"Go to hell." Harry whipped his wand forward, summoning every ounce of energy he could muster. A flash appeared behind Plint - a smoky outline, that morphed into the form of a animal. Fed by Harry's energy, the beast took solid form, magic twisting into sinew and bone.

Prongs.

With a low cry, the huge stag charged the soldier. Plint, expecting a front-on attack, was caught off guard. He turned in time to catch hold of the antlers as they impaled him through the side, lifting him off his feet. The beast gave a snort of pride and Plint cried out in pain as Prongs charged forward, pinning him against the wall.

Harry looked away. The distraction had bought him the time he needed. Clutching his chest, he slowly got to his feet and limped to the edge of the room. He touched his wand to the tank holding Sarah and the glass shattered, releasing plumes of purple smoke into the air. With his good arm, Harry released the restraints and slowly lowered the girl to the ground, dragging her away from the fumes.

"Sarah!" Harry shook her and her eyes flickered open. "Wake up, Sarah, we've got to-"

Prongs gave out a last, defiant cry. Harry looked back to see Plint grasp hold of the dead beast's antlers, wrench them free from his body, and roughly toss the animal to the side.

The soldier dropped to the ground, shook his head, and looked up at Harry. A crazed smile spread across his lips, as the blood from his wounds pooled onto the floor beneath him.

"That was a cheap trick, Harry." He raised a finger and shook it in disapproval. "A cheap trick, indeed." He picked himself up off the ground and began to move toward where Sarah lay.

Harry raised his wand, channeling what little energy he had left. His vision flickered at the edges. His breath caught in his lungs. He didn't have much and he knew Plint could sense it. He would have one shot at this and he had to make it count.

The light at the tip of his wand burned intensely, swelling in size as he pooled every last drop of energy he had left into the spell.

Plint gave a laugh as he stalked forward, his steps slow but sure. He raised his palms and they pulsed with ethereal blue light, ready to shield him from the attack.

But Harry had other plans. His right arm shook under the weight of the magic and he knew - it was now or never. He closed his eyes, and with one last push, apparated.

Plint never saw it coming. Harry reappeared behind the soldier, dropped to a knee, and let go. With a cry of pain, the magic exploded out of him, pulling on his very soul as it funneled through his wand and into Plint's exposed back. The blast punched through, blowing a hole through the soldier's torso, eviscerating him.

An eerie silence washed over the room as shadowguard slumped to the ground, lifeless.

* * *

Harry blinked back tears of pain. All around him, the drum of army boots crept closer, tightening their reign, bearing down on him like the tiger against the wounded gazelle. Reinforcements. No doubt summoned from the bowels of the academy; here to finish the job Plint had started. Harry shrugged off the thought. Though his mind still spun, he could just make out Sarah's voice, silvery and desperate, fighting for his attention amidst the roar of the alarm.

"Harry!" Her eyes darted toward the exits. "Get up!"

She grasped his wrist and tugged Harry to his feet. He swayed, his body groaning in protest, before throwing his arm around her shoulders. He reached up and felt the sheet of blood, sticky and thick, that mottled his face.

Above them, the chorus of steel-toed boots grew deafening . It echoed from all corners of the room and Harry groaned, knowing too well what that meant. The shadowguards covered all the exits. There was no way out.

"What do we do?" Sarah said, her eyes widening with understanding. "We're trapped!"

"Not quite. C'mon."

Harry in the lead, they limped toward the edge of the room. The ballast tanks, shattered during his brawl with Plint, now filled the air with plumes of noxious, purple smoke. Yet another reason to get the Hell out of here, Harry thought miserably.

"Look," he said and pointed to the channels of water that ran along the flooring. Ten thin streams spiraled outward, forming a web-like network between each tank, before merging into a unified current. "Cooling system," Harry explained as he gestured to a single opening in the corner of the room. An opening that collected all the running water. An opening just wide enough for a person to fit through.

Sarah grinned. "Brilliant, Har-"

An explosion lit up the northeast corner of the room. In a shower of sparks, an upper walkway collapsed onto a row of ballast tanks. Harry threw himself over Sarah split seconds before the concussive blast threatened to lay waste to the entire room. Among the wreckage and fiery blaze, he glanced up to see a team of shadowguards funneling out onto the upper landing.

"Shit."

"There they are," a soldier shouted. "Open fire!"

Harry turned to Sarah. "Go, now!" One after the other they jumped into the water as rounds of gunfire pierced the surface around them. The current was a lance of freezing pain. It gobbled them up and flung them forward, rushing them through the drainage system and out of the soldiers' sight.

The waterway dropped off quickly and Harry plummeted ten feet into a waiting reservoir. Hitting the surface was like taking a sucker-punch to the chest. His lungs burned for air as the plunge took him to the steely-smooth bottom of the pool. With force, he jammed his feet into the ground, propelling himself upward, arms overhead, reaching for the surface that seemed forever out of reach. Seconds felt like hours. And as he struggled upward, his kicks began to fade and his mind began to cloud. Finally, just when it seemed he might have escaped only to drown, he broke the surface.

Sputtering, he sucked in a deep breath of air. The sounds of shouting overhead and the churning of the water returned to him in force. The reservoir, though slower than the stream overhead, had its own current and Harry could feel its pull. He reached out, found purchase on a nearby ledge, and pulled himself onto a stone platform.

A steady arm helped him to his feet.

"We better keep moving," Sarah said. "They won't be far behind us."

Harry nodded. Even now he could hear the soldiers arguing overhead. It would only be a matter of time before they followed them down the drainage shaft. And, magically drained as he was, he knew he would only be dead weight if they did. "We should follow the current. If it can get out, so can we."

Ten minutes later, the tunnel opened into a wider expanse. The stone-faced wall, their only scenery for hundreds of yards, dropped away, revealing the clear blue expanse of the Umojan skyline. Harry squinted against the barrage of sunlight and was met with the sound of falling water. The current had picked up in intensity, and Harry followed it to the source - a cliff a hundred feet up and the waiting riverbed below. The entirety of the Umojan jungle lay before them. The only way forward was down.

He caught motion out of the corner of his eye. Sarah tensed beside him.

"Freeze!"

Two squadrons of soldiers emerged from the darkness behind them. With a glance toward Sarah, Harry raised his arms above his head. Slowly, he turned, his heels resting precariously on the cliff's edge. The group of guards split down the middle and a single man emerged from the pack, encased in armor.

"Beil," Sarah said between clenched teeth.

"I'm afraid this is the end of the line for you two," the shadowguard said, running his fingers along his pistol. He turned toward Harry. "I've been told to bring you in alive, Potter. Unfortunately, this is a dirty game we play and well -" his eyes flared a deep purple, "-accidents do happen."

Harry braced himself, his body and his wounds rebelling against him. He reached deep for his magic, deep into the core of his very being, but returned empty-handed. Wanting. Magic had always been there. It was his aid in times of need, his lifeblood. Here, facing certain death, it wasn't fear that overtook him. It was the feeling of loss. It was betrayal.

"Your boss won't be very pleased with that call," Sarah said. "Better to take us in. Return the conquering hero. You'll be lavished with praise and power and riches."

Beil narrowed his eyes. He raised his pistol and brought it level against Sarah's head. "What kind of fool do you make me out to be, girl."

Harry shifted his weight, ready to do what he could against the shadowguard. At the same time, a soldier from the back of the group strode to forward.

"She has a point, Sir," the guard said, his eyes glossy. "Surely, we'll be rewarded for their safe return."

The collective gasp escaped the soldiers, clearly shocked at this man's lunacy. Beil, too, seemed dumbfounded. "What?" he screamed. He turned, and without a seconds hesitation, discharged his pistol point blank into the man's vacant face. Blood and bits of brain matter coated the uniforms of the men behind him, as the soldier's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

"Now, where were -"

"Sir, I think we should listen to her," cried another soldier.

"Me too, sir!" came another faceless voice.

Beil shook with rage. His finger trembled on the trigger of his pistol as he started to turn back toward his men. "What the hell is wrong with -" His voice caught in his throat. He turned to Sarah, his eyes widening in understanding, and raised his pistol once more. "You," he whispered.

At that moment, everything happened at once. Gunfire rang out from behind Beil as half of his guards opened fire on the other, unsuspecting, half. Harry lunged forward, knocking Beil's pistol from his grip, and Sarah wound up and kicked the shadowguard in the stomach. He landed on his back, sliding along the slippery stone walkway and into the fray of gunfire.

Beil looked up in shock as the remaining guards encircled him, pinning him down. They grasped the grenades on their belt loops and released all the pins.

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

Harry glanced up at Sarah, watching her eyes burn with a blue haze. She smirked and the look sent shivers down his spine. This was not the same girl he had met aboard the _Hyperion_. Hell, this was not the same girl he had known yesterday. What had happened to her?

She reached out, grabbed his hand, and together, without a thought to the depth of the riverbed or the rocks that might be waiting for them below, they jumped off the cliff.

Above them, in a blaze of reds and oranges, an explosion tore through the mountainside.


End file.
